


The New Normal

by The Feels Whale (miscellea)



Series: Star Wars Crack [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: All Might occasionally remembers he's the oldest person in the room, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Fusion, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Dadzawa, Drama, F/M, Foster Kid Shinsou Hitoshi, Gen, Inko and Yagi are cute nerds who fall in love through writing letters, M/M, Mic is the real grownup, Padawan!Deku, Parental Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Parental Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Parental Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Quirkless Midoriya Izuku, Secrets, Sensei | All For One is Not Midoriya Hisashi, Set in BNHA Canon, Sort Of, Very AU tho, Villain Midoriya Hisashi, YamaDad, alpha mom inko, dadmight, deku's kink is competent people, if you don't want to get adopted then don't be unsupervised where Aizawa can see you, shindeku if you squint - Freeform, star wars level father son drama, you do not need to be super Star Wars savvy for this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:21:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 111,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26260066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miscellea/pseuds/The%20Feels%20Whale
Summary: Midoriya Izuku comes from a long line of secret Force users. Reconciling that with living as a Quirkless person in and Quirked world is interesting at best --and that wasbeforehis Dad tried to make him commit a murder.Present Mic and Eraserhead, meanwhile, have been trying to adopt for a while with no luck until Mic walks past the wrong (possibly the right) custody hearing and can't help but step in.A Boku no Hero Academia and Star Wars Fusion.
Relationships: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Midoriya Inko/Yagi Toshinori | All Might
Series: Star Wars Crack [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1970431
Comments: 201
Kudos: 702
Collections: Bnha Bookclub Discord Recs, Well Written Well Composed Well Loved, ✨✨ i can not stop rereading!! ✨✨





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> So here is the first bit of that enormous Star Wars crack crossover I promised. It is not actually done, but I have 85K written and am on the last chapter. I think it's safe to start posting. Chapters will go up as I edit them. Enjoy!
> 
> Plus, I think all us manga fans could all do with some paternal Aizawa right now. OMG.
> 
> FYI, most of my Start Wars knowledge comes from Knights of the Old Republic and Wookiepedia.

The air in the mountain district was unnaturally still. Aside from the dome overheard, it was the only hint you couldn’t ignore that you were standing in an artificial environment.

Izuku’s throat clenched as he met Kacchan’s furious gaze.

Hisashi’s hand closed over Izuku’s shoulder as he leaned in to murmur in Izuku’s ear. His voice was distorted by the black metal mask he wore and he spoke too softly for anyone else to hear. “It’s all right, son. I’ve done all the work for you.”

Kacchan was locked into place by thick lengths of rebar; dozens of them all fixing him into one awkward pose that made it impossible for him to use his explosions without injuring himself in the process… although that didn’t seem to have stopped him from trying, going by the scorched state of his costume.

There was another boy Izuku didn’t recognize in the same state a little ways back. Whatever his quirk was, it didn’t seem like it was helpful in his predicament. He was still struggling, clearly desperate to get between him and Kacchan. 

He must have known what Hisashi had brought Izuku here to do.

Hisashi’s voice sounded --proud and that was the worst, most strangest part of all. Izuku’s father never showed any emotion he didn’t have to; not irritation, pleasure, disappointment or approval.

Kacchan’s jaw worked fruitlessly a few seconds before he could say anything. “What is this, Deku?” He ground out. 

Izuku couldn’t answer and Hisashi paid Kaachan no mind at all as he circled around their frozen tableau. The red light of his saber cast grotesque highlights the bodies of his hostages and made the twisted rebar look like twisted plants out of a nightmare. 

“Why the fuck are you with this guy?” Kacchan wrenched against his restraints. His hands threw sparks, but didn’t ignite into full explosions. His legs were trembling and not necessarily from fear. Izuku suspected, but had never been able to confirm just how much of Kacchan was fire-resistant; his hands and arms, definitely. His legs though, maybe not there and he’d taken a beating on his lower half trying to escape. The rebar restraints might have been the only thing holding him up. 

“Your training is almost over. You’re almost ready. Harness the power of your hate.” Hisashi stopped behind Izuku. He wasn’t bothering to stay quiet anymore. “All you have to do is kill one bully and you will know true freedom.”

Izuku’s grip tightened on the unassuming hilt of his weapon. His heart hammered in his chest as he tried and failed to comprehend the degree to which he was absolutely, beyond any hope of rescue, fucked.

He couldn’t.

“Think carefully now, son.” Hisashi warned, swishing his weapon in short irritable little arcs as Izuku continued to hesitate.

He would not.

Kacchan’s attention jerked off Izuku, going from rage to confusion so fast it must have hurt. He’d realized who was behind Hisashi’s mask. “What the actual fu…” His voice cut off on a wheeze. He jerked his head left and right to try and escape the invisible pressure on his airways.

“Now, Izuku.” Hisashi hissed at him, sounding like Izuku was a little kid taking too long to pick out cereal at the grocery store. 

He had to.

Izuku’s saber didn’t have the same powerful hum his dad’s did. It wasn’t finished, really. He still had to grind new lenses to really concentrate and stabilize the the blade projection, but it would do. It was going to have to do.

Kacchan’s eyes looked the same as they had on that other day; projecting courage and tenacity until suddenly he just couldn’t anymore.

_It’s going to be over in a second, Kacchan._ Izuku thought as he reached down deep inside and pulled on all the hate he had to give. Just one more second.

...and he moved.

* * *

_One Day Earlier_

* * *

The day had started out much the same as every other day since the beginning of Izuku’s highschool career. 

That is to say, nearly indistinguishable from middle school.

He got up early for morning training. His dad wasn’t around much for this part of the day anymore. Izuku knew the routine and also knew that his dad would find out fast if he skipped or slacked off. The only difference was that he went to the park to run and did his exercises on the grass instead of the living room. Force training took place in the basement well out of sight of the neighbors. Like his physical conditioning, Izuku was at the point where he could practice by himself except for the occasional skill check and he liked being able to direct his own efforts. 

Later, sweaty and head buzzing, he went upstairs to shower. Then he ate breakfast alone as he browsed his phone and checked his email for any letters from his mom.

He was lucky that day. The ship must have pulled into port for a resupply that also had wifi because he had several emails from her, all back-dated from weeks before. Another popped up as he read the first and he switched over to that one.

It was the normal sort of Mom stuff; _I love you, how’s school, is your dad taking good care of you?_ Plus a lot of details about her current job that went right over his head, but came with some amazing pictures of the Antarctic ice floes that didn’t. 

Izuku allowed himself a soft smile as he tapped out a quick response; I love you too, school’s fine, dad’s dad. He had no idea how long she’d be in port. It seemed like sometimes they were only there for a few hours, but other times she'd be there for days. This seemed like a short port stay, but she still found time to praise him (again) for getting into a good school.

Manaan Prep wasn’t a _bad_ school although Izuku had a hard time remembering that sometimes. It was actually a very good school and most of the students there ended up in their top choice universities, but any high school without a heroics program was considered a mid-tier institution at best to the general public so he didn’t often get congratulations when he told people where he went. Manaan was the best of the middle with only UA edging them out in the regional academics rankings.

Mom liked Manaan for their life science program. They’d talked about him coming out to join her at the deep sea research station where she worked when she wasn’t out on loan to crazy people collecting weird radioactive fungus in Antarctica. He had a good attitude for any kind of research and her program director liked him enough to work out some kind of course credit deal, but Izuku knew his dad would never let him go that far away. 

Any highschool, college, or job he wanted had better be within commuting distance of Musutafu _or else_.

Izuku dragged himself away from his phone and through the motions of getting ready. He wasn’t really looking forward to classes. 

Nobody was _mean_ to him, exactly. It was better than middle school that way. People weren’t as invested in whether or not he had a quirk without Kacchan around to polarize them, but nobody really wanted to be his friend either. That was one thing he couldn’t really blame on his former friend. He was still weird and his new schoolmates hadn’t taken long to figure it out or decide they didn’t like it. He didn’t get invited to join in conversations and the few times he’d tried to join in on his own the group usually split up after a minute or two --only to reconvene a short distance away sans Izuku.

He was used to being on his own, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t wearing him down.

Izuku managed to get out the door with all his books and materials intact before his dad could put in an appearance. Hisashi hadn’t been around much lately except for evening training sessions, but there was evidence of his presence in the form of new groceries and terse notes on the fridge. 

The morning developed a bright spot when Izuku spotted a familiar face on the train. 

Yagi-san looked up as Izuku approached and patted the open seat next to him. “Good morning, young Midoriya.” He looked pretty good compared to what Izuku had seen of his bad days, but his oversized suit made him look even more skeletally thin than usual. It had been a while, but Izuku still hadn’t gotten used to All Might dressing up as a school teacher. 

“G-good morning, sir.” 

Yagi’s eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled. He’d mellowed out a lot in the year since they’d met. Izuku got the impression that changing careers wasn’t as easy a transition as the hero had been hoping for. It probably didn’t help that his presence had already caused a security issue at UA either, if HeroNet was anything to go by. 

Mellowed or not, it didn’t stop the bombshell question Yagi asked next. “How was your evening?”

Izuku wasn’t an idiot. He knew All Might didn’t need to ride a train to get anywhere. He was still keeping an eye on Izuku.

“Fine.” Izuku winced at his own tone, which had fallen way short of believable. “No weirder than usual. He didn’t stick around for long.”

Yagi nodded and looked ahead. “Good. I’m glad to hear it. Any word on when your mother is due back?”

Whether he was doing it on purpose or not -and he probably was- Yagi had switched the topic to a subject Izuku could always get behind.

“It’ll be another month at least if she doesn’t get another job request before then.” Izuku dug out his phone. “I got some new pictures from her this morning. Take a look.” He showed Yagi his favorite from Mom’s recent album upload; a coastline of snowy rocks against a desaturated sky. “That’s Coronation island.”

“Lovely. She continues to be a talented photographer. Would you mind forwarding me a copy of that?” Yagi wasn’t faking his expression of quiet awe. The Pro Hero had been all over the world and lived a life every child in Japan dreamed of, but he still looked wonderstruck when Izuku shared stories from the deep sea research team. “Please tell her I said so.”

“Sure. She’s not going to believe you this time either.” Izuku stowed his phone after sending a copy of the email to Yagi-san and felt his mood drop a little as he realized how close they were to his stop. “How’s… how’s that project of yours going?”

Yagi leaned back in his seat. “I’m still determined, Midoriya.” He replied, voice low.

Izuku felt his ears go hot. He knew Yagi-san wanted him to take over One for All, but he also knew what kind of nightmare situation that would lead to at home. His dad was the only person on Earth who thought Izuku was better off without a quirk. His quirk had limited some of the advanced Force techniques available to him and Hisashi had _never_ gotten over it.

One of the few times Izuku could remember his father smiling was the day when his pediatrician had shown him the x-rays. 

“It won’t…” His voice cracked. “ _He_ won’t let…”

“I’m aware. You let me worry about that part.” Yagi’s blue eyes were clear and calm as he spoke. “This isn’t just a matter of my personal problem any longer. I’m not blind, young man. I know you’re scared to go home.”

The overhead system announced Izuku’s stop and he burst upright. “It’s, _it’s fine_.” He couldn’t make himself look at Yagi. “I’m fine.” That last bit was loud enough that some of the other passengers looked his way.

“It’s _not_ fine, Midoriya.” Yagi started to insist, but Izuku couldn’t bear the looks he was getting and he bolted.

* * *

Toshinori made himself sit back down rather than follow Midoriya off the train.

Naomasa got up from his spot a few rows down and sat back down next to him. Toshinori shot him a sideways glance, but his friend didn’t speak right away.

The train started back up and they traveled in silence punctuated only by the rocking of the tram.

“I see what you mean.” Naomasa said at last.

Quirk Misuse was a department in the police force that covered a wide range of offenses. Naomasa had worked almost exclusively in supervillain apprehension for the past several years, but Toshinori knew he’d worked his fair share of domestic violence cases. 

“Can you do anything?” 

That got him a shrug. “I can do a welfare check, but you said his environment isn’t bad. I won’t be able to get him on that count. The pictures you showed me might sway a judge, but it would depend on which one got assigned to your case. Right now the issue is that he has no other family in the area. Family Court judges don’t like putting children into the foster system if there’s any other option. You’ll have a better shot if the mother is in the area, but with what you told me about her job and the fact that she’s already been denied custody in the divorce…” Naomasa shrugged again. 

“He doesn’t _need_ to go into foster care.” Toshinori knew what a losing battle looked like, but he couldn’t shake the hope that he might be able to turn this one around. “He has emergency guardians. They could take him in.”

The Bakugous weren’t his first choice, given their son. However, Toshinori was willing to advocate for the lesser of two dangers and young Bakugou seemed different after his misadventure with the Sludge villain last year. A few weeks spent in with a classroom full of students every bit as talented, determined, and charismatic as him had done a lot to knock some of the self-important stuffing out of him as well.

If he thought there was any chance at all that a judge would grant him custody -a single male pro-hero expat with two dangerous full time jobs- Toshinori would have volunteered in a heartbeat, but the Bakugos had a better shot. 

“That is a stretch, Toshi.” Naomasa shook his head. “The kid’s dad needs to make a bigger mistake before I’d risk trying to interfere. I know you mean well, but you could make it a lot worse. Abusers want absolute control of their victims. If they think that control is threatened...”

“I know.” Toshinori snapped and then made himself moderate his tone. Naomasa didn’t deserve to be shouted at no matter how frustrating the situation had become. He knew the risks and he knew them better than most. “ _I know._ ”

“Then be patient and try not to spook the kid.” Naomasa advised him. “You don’t want him having any questions about where to go if his situation gets worse. You’re a hero. You have a lot more options if the kid comes to you for help.”

That, unfortunately, would never happen. Toshinori had met people more stubborn and self-sufficient than young Midoriya, but not many. 

Naomasa left at the next stop to switch trains, but Toshinori rode on in unhappy silence until his stop was announced. He didn’t usually stay on long past the point where his boy got off; it was a habit leftover from his childhood, which had been defined by loneliness and parsimony up until he met Nana-sensei. If he could walk (or jump) then he did so. 

Today he wanted some quiet to go with his dark thoughts. Once he approached UA then he’d need to be _on_. Usually his five minutes of a shared commute with Midoriya -being treated like a normal person and trusted adult- acted as a restorative, but not today.

It had been a year since Izuku had come into Toshinori’s life and while he would not exchange that connection for _anything_ , he had also acquired a new and deadly nemesis; one he couldn’t just punch into the stratosphere no matter how much he’d like to. 

He’d only met Hisashi once in person, but that would have been enough on its own. 

On that day when he’d saved two young boys from the sludge villain and thought his search had come to an end, Toshinori hadn’t been the only person waiting for young Midoriya on the street outside his apartment.

There was a sort of sixth-sense you developed if you worked in villain apprehension long enough. Toshinori’s intuition was better than most and that inner feeling had gone off like a car alarm the first moment he set eyes on Midoriya Hisashi. 

At first Toshinori hadn’t realized that Izuku was related to the man at all. Hisashi was tall and compact; handsome, maybe, but not in any inviting way. He had black hair with a similar texture to his son and dense freckles covering his skin anywhere it was exposed to the light. 

His _eyes_ , though.

Hisashi had the eyes of an alligator -both literally and figuratively. They’d been flat and disinterested until he was moved into sudden animalistic fury.

Toshinori hadn’t been able to speak to Izuku at all, but rather had been forced to watch the boy’s father drag him down the street by the arm.

He’d been concerned at the time, but not actually _afraid_ for the boy’s safety. The sludge villain had ended up on a breaking news segment. Toshinori’s phone had blown up with push notifications about local villain activity. Midoriya’s face had featured prominently in at least two of them. Any reasonable parent would have been out of their mind with worry.

Toshinori had still followed them back to their apartment and listened closely for any sounds of a disturbance just in case, but there had been nothing. He’d left then, hoping that the boy had just been grounded or given a lecture.

Except the next time Toshinori had managed to lay eyes on Midoriya he had a very prominent split lip and a shadowy bruise at the corner of his mouth to go with it. That wasn’t the last time he found damage on Midoriya that had to have come from adult hands, but the boy wouldn’t identify his abuser and Toshinori had yet to catch Hisashi in the act.

Toshinori exited the train with a heavy heart and the start of a headache. There weren’t as many reporters at the school entrance as there had been on the day of that break-in and that was a small mercy. None of them cared about sickly-looking and cranky Yagi Toshinori anyway and he was able to get into work with a minimum of fuss.

Maybe the rest of the week would be better after this?

* * *

In retrospect, Aizawa Shouta was glad he’d found a private place to take the call.

The faculty crash room was small, private, and soundproofed. He was going to need all of that for the next twenty minutes until he got himself back into order--maybe longer. The news was going to kill Hizashi and he wouldn’t go quietly.

They’d been so _close_.

He stared at his phone and the red characters reading ‘call ended’ until the screen went back to sleep leaving a black mirror reflecting the flat expression of his own face. Shouta tossed it onto the couch next to him and let himself fall onto his side.

This would be the third adoption that fell through on them at the last minute. 

It had been a little girl -Hiragawa Hotaru, age 8, illusionist quirk, nonverbal, distressingly cute- this time. They’d gotten through their supervised visits, a weekend sleepover, and had their final home check scheduled. Shouta had just about been ready to let himself get used to the idea, except it seemed her estranged maternal grandparents and their lawyers finally crawled out of whatever hole they’d been hiding in during the year since Hotaru’s parents had died. Her social worker hadn’t been able to give him all the details; just that they would have to start over again with a new child.

Hizashi was the one who wanted a kid and Shouta wasn’t _opposed_ to the idea, exactly. He’d just known that getting a kid through the foster system as a pro hero was going to be a total meat grinder. It wasn’t easy on civilian families, but being a family with at least one high profile hero in it added another unwelcome dimension to the process.

There were thousands of kids in the system who needed homes, but because Shouta and Hizashi were pros the social workers they worked with tried to cherry pick kids with the least trauma and the best quirks for potential hero work even after they were told not to. Hizashi didn’t care about whether or not they got a ‘good kid’ or an ‘easy kid’ and Shouta knew those kids needed help the least. The so-called ‘good’ kids didn’t stay in the system long. They almost always had family somewhere that wanted them or would suddenly decide that they did.

Shouta had not been considered one of the ‘good’ kids and a secret, selfish part of him wanted to save his help for where it would do the most good. He couldn’t edit his own past, but he’d hoped to have the opportunity to prevent it from repeating for someone else.

By this point though he just wanted them to have a kid, _any_ kid, before Hizashi ended up breaking his heart over it. 

His phone lit up with a text from Hizashi.

_I have a missed call from Goro. Did she call you? Do I need to call her back?_

Shuta shut his eyes and reluctantly picked up the phone to share the bad news with his husband.

* * *

Izuku knew his mediocre day was about to get worse when he realized all the lights in the apartment were on when he got home. 

There was a line of unfamiliar shoes in the entryway when he got inside and Izuku stomped on the little coil of apprehension in his stomach at the sight of them. His dad didn’t like guests, but he’d been having people over more often. Izuku wasn’t invited to join, but it would be his job to clean up the empty glasses and full ashtrays tomorrow morning.

The only good thing about having company over was the fact that his dad cancelled evening training on those nights.

Izuku slunk inside and made straight for his bedroom, ignoring the sound of low voices from the living room. Worryingly, he didn’t recognize any of the voices. He hadn’t been introduced to any of his dad’s ‘associates’, but he’d gotten familiar with their shoes and their quiet, respectful voices. The people in the living room were neither.

It was quieter in his room and he took his time changing out of his uniform. He’d have to go out into the kitchen one more time, but after that he’d be on his own for the night.

Luck wasn’t with him. There was someone already in the kitchen helping themselves to a beer when Izuku made his quiet way there. 

It was a, a _person_ of some kind. Izuku was going to guess it was a masculine-indentifying person going by the slim-cut trousers and waistcoat, but they had a morphological quirk that made them look like swirling black mist anywhere their clothes didn’t contain them and they had two bright slashes for eyes.

“Midoriya the Younger, I presume.” The person didn’t speak with much inflection. 

“Ahhhhh…” Izuku wheezed and stumbled backwards only to bump into someone’s chest. He looked over his shoulder and was greeted with his dad’s usual flat expression, but for once it was turned on someone other than him.

“Kurogiri, you’ve been missed in the other room.” Hisashi told their guest.

“I see.” The person - Kurogiri- acknowledged Hisashi, but didn’t make any gestures towards leaving the kitchen. “Your child is older than I thought, given your description of him. Sensei would…”

Izuku felt his dad’s broad hand land on his shoulder as he cut Kurogiri off. “Shigaraki has plenty of playmates. My son has other duties to occupy him.” Hisashi didn’t sound upset, but his fingers bit into the meat of Izuku’s shoulder. 

“Perhaps.” Unconcerned, Kurogiri collected three more bottles of beer from the counter and made his way out of the kitchen.

Hisashi waited until Kurogiri was gone to release Izuku. “Get something to eat then go back to your room and lock the door. Text me if anyone knocks, but do not answer.”

“O-okay.” Izuku didn’t move until his dad was gone.

_That had been a villain._

Izuku found something in the fridge, but didn’t pay much attention to what. It didn’t matter. His stomach flat out refused the prospect of food. He just wanted to get back to the safety of his bedroom because _his dad had brought villains into the house_.

He’d suspected that something was wrong with his dad for a while now. Hisashi had never been a great father or person. He could do the minimum. Izuku always had food, shelter, clothes, and some money of his own but there was a very good reason why Izuku’s mom spent most of her time out of the country after the divorce. 

Hisashi had never hit him just for the sake of hitting. If he got hurt in training then it happened, but as his dad’s temper got less and less predictable Izuku could see the day coming when that could change. Hisashi never seemed to go to work anymore, but somehow all the bills were still getting paid. Groceries showed up in the fridge without fail and Izuku’s allowance still got deposited into his account every friday.

He’d known something was wrong.

He just… he hadn’t expected _this_.

There was breaking the law and then there was hanging around super villains. You could come back from one, but the other could destroy the future of entire families _for generations._

Izuku managed to keep a lid on his bubbling emotions until he was back in his room. 

Dinner turned out to be some nibitashi he’d made earlier in the week and he ate it without tasting much. He was too busy trying to figure out if he knew any local villains who could conceivably be… him.

His distressed web surfing was interrupted after a while by a text.

It was from his dad.

_Get ready. Training tonight once they’re gone._

It took hours before the others left and Izuku had managed to get a barebones semblance of control over himself. He’d done his warm ups and his homework. He’d even managed a brief and inefficient nap. He was as close to normal as he was likely to ever be again.

His dad worked with villains -or worse- he _was_ a villain. _That_ was the new normal.

The apartment was quiet and Izuku couldn’t tell if the visitors had left or were just too quiet for him to notice. He was too deep in the house to hear the door open or shut and any other ways he had of checking things out were off the table unless his dad was around to supervise.

A text lit up his phone just as he was trying to sublimate some of his stress by cruising HeroNet.

_Basement. Now._

The practice area in the basement was supposed to have been a shared storage space with the other units in their building, but in practice no one else tried to use it anymore. Hisashi kept some tools and conditioning equipment down there, but the rest of it had been lined in mismatched rubber mats.

Hisashi was already down there warming up with sharp, irritated movements when Izuku made it down there.

“We’re doing a skills test tonight.” Hisashi didn’t look up when he spoke. Most of his focus was turned inward and he didn’t have a lot to spare for Izuku. “Stretches and then I want you to build a card house. Time it. Wear the blindfold.”

Card houses weren’t hard, but Hisashi didn’t mean for him to use his hands at any point in the process. This was a Force exercise. He’d started with alphabet blocks when he was a toddler; just moving them around. Izuku’s grandfather had still been alive then and had directed the first stages of his Force training. Force manipulation started with just lifting single objects; light things, heavy things, whatever. From there the exercises had gotten more complex. He learned to control multiple objects and to do it without relying on his eyes. At this point he was focusing on precision and more often than not that meant he built card houses. 

The cards weren’t where he’d left them. Of course. That would be too easy. 

Izuku found a spot out of his father’s way and sat down with his legs crossed. He let out his breath, closed his eyes, and reached out with his inner senses to map out his surroundings. The Force always felt like water to him; omnipresent and constantly in motion. It didn’t really lend itself well to locating inanimate objects, but Izuku had figured out that the air itself had a presence within the Force and if he made himself very still and quiet then he could use it to ‘see’ places his eyes could never reach; inside the storage closet, for example.

There weren’t a lot of easily accessible hiding places in the basement. He started with the most obvious and worked his way through until Izuku found the cards stashed behind a crate of assorted cables left over from electronics they didn’t own anymore. He lifted the box up through the Force, brought it over to the mat behind his back, and got to work. His best time so far was forty seconds. Given the state of his nerves though, the timer read 45 seconds when he triggered the stop button. 

To his surprise, Hisashi didn’t make any comments. He just pointed at the rack of practice swords along the wall furthest from the stairs.

Izuku knew he’d made a mistake as soon as he turned his back on his dad. Past experience as much as his Force-enhanced senses informed him of the incoming strike. He dropped and rolled forward. One of the shinais on the rack flew into his hand and he got a block up just in time to stop his dad’s follow-up.

He was already on his back so he kicked out with both feet with a sharp burst of irritation. Could they not do this _just once?_ He caught his dad in the shin, followed it with an upward wave of Force energy, and staggered him enough for Izuku to get the breathing space he needed to find his feet again.

Izuku popped up, ready to go, but Hisashi had already dropped his stance and was just watching him with a thoughtful expression.

“You’ve come along well.” He said at last, which threw Izuku more than the abbreviated session. Was-was that it? They’d hardly done anything and Hisashi had only tested him on the most basic stuff. Izuku had _never_ gotten away with so little. 

“Thank you, sir?” Izuku tried not to dwell on the bad feeling in his stomach. It felt like his usual anxiety, but it only intensified when he tried to compartmentalize it like it was resisting his attempt to push through.

“I’ve seen what I need to see. There’s no point in wearing yourself out tonight. I need you fresh in the morning. Go back upstairs and try to get some sleep.” Hisashi paused and held up a hand. “Wait.”

That yawning pit in Izuku’s gut opened wider as he watched his dad unlock the storage cage where they kept some of the stuff Hisashi had inherited from Izuku’s grandparents. He rooted around until he came up with a brown paper parcel that he tossed to Izuku. “Go try that on.” He ordered. “I’ll be up in a second to look you over.” 

Izuku counted backwards from one hundred as he ran upstairs.

The package had been closed with a wax seal that flaked apart under Izuku’s touch. He winced and was glad he’d paused to take a picture of the emblem in the wax before trying to pry it up. It wasn’t one he recognized and he was familiar with most of the seals his family had used over the years; a pair of wings inside a circle that framed a sort of spike with a starburst in the center. Was it something his dad used? 

The paper was old and delicate so it tore despite the care he took opening the parcel. The contents turned out to be a set of robes like the stuff Izuku’s grandpa had taken to wearing during the last days of his final illness; a loose, layered shirt sort of like an asymmetrical _gi_ in undyed cotton and dark gray trousers that belted at the waist with a broad sash. There was a long hooded gray robe underneath the shirt and trousers 

Bad feeling confirmed.

Izuku already _had_ a set of robes for the rare annual ceremonies that he and his dad actually observed. They’d been a gift from his grandmother and they still fit, but that set was done in shades of brown and cream. The gray set smelled a little bit like the damp and had been made for someone with longer legs than him, but it fit sorta if Izuku cuffed the pants and tucked them into the top of his hi-tops.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror and chewed on his lip.

There weren’t a lot of innocent reasons why his dad would give him a sinister looking costume and those explanations dwindled further when the door to his bedroom swung inwards to admit Hisashi. 

“Not bad.” He decided out loud and then tossed something at Izuku. “Put that on and pull your hood up.”

The thing turned out to be a heroics grade respirator Izuku had bought in a fit of optimism back when he’d still believed there was even a _slight_ chance that his dad would let him take the UA entrance exam. He’d been planning on using it as a mask because the mouthpiece looked a bit like a grinning mouth and he’d been going for this ‘happy helpful bunny’ theme with his aspirational costume ideas.

Izuku’s reflection was unrecognizable with the hood up and the respirator on except for his red sneakers. He looked like a villain at best and a crazed extra on the set of Mad Max at worst.

“Close.” Hisashi nodded to himself. “All right. Get that stuff off and hang it up so the wrinkles fall out then I want you in bed. Set out your black boots too. I don’t want you wearing those sneakers. We’ve got work tomorrow.”

_“Work?”_ Izuku hunched his shoulders when his dad turned a cool look his way that promised consequences if Izuku kept asking dumb questions. “It’s just tomorrow is a school day.” He said, weakly.

Hisashi shook his head. “Not anymore.” He turned and left. “Get to bed.”

* * *

The house was uncharacteristically quiet when Shouta got home from patrol with a bag of to-go dinners from the corner store. Hizashi usually had music going as he graded or did chores, but not tonight. The main level was dark except for a lamp just beyond the entryway. 

He found his spouse in the basement studio staring down at a partially disassembled audio mixer without really seeming to see it. Shouta recognized it as the one Hizashi had bought second hand years ago with the intention of fixing it up although he’d never really gotten around to it. 

Hizashi jerked as Shouta opened the door and stepped into the studio. He pulled off his headphones and turned around. “H-hey, Sho. You’re home early! Sorry, I meant to have dinner ready and…” He paused. “...I got distracted, I guess. Let me put this up and I’ll…”

“I got food. Come upstairs and eat.”

Shouta wasn’t good at this -offering comfort- but he’d gotten more experience with it than he’d ever wanted in the past year. Hizashi had taken it mostly in stride the first time things had fallen through. 

The first kid had been an eleven year old boy named Honda Ayame who had a flight quirk. They’d only met him once or twice before his estranged maternal aunt came for him. The second match, a ten year old set of telepathic twins, had been harder. Both of the girls had bonded with Hizashi on first sight and he with them. They had ended up being returned to their father and stepmother when he successfully sued for custody. Shouta had seen some cracks in Hizashi’s demeanor that time and he’d known that a third rejection would be a hard storm to weather.

“What would I do without you?” Hizashi pressed a kiss against Shouta’s cheek, but didn’t pull away after. He leaned in and let Shouta take his weight and -as ever- the implicit trust implied in the gesture made it hard for Shouta to form words. 

“You’d manage.”

“Good for you that I don’t want to.” Hizashi sighed and Shouta quietly agreed. It was a _very_ good thing for him. “What did you get?”

“Karaage and some puddings.” They didn’t have many comfort foods between them aside from Shouta’s reliance on Calorie Mates to get through the day, but fried chicken was what Hizashi wanted whenever he felt down. “I got you a melon green tea too.”

Hizashi tucked his face into Shouta’s shoulder and chuckled. It sounded more genuine than his forced good cheer from before and some of the tense dread drained out of Shouta’s stomach. “Yeah, I’m definitely keeping you around.”

They were going to be alright.

* * *

Suffice to say, Izuku did not sleep. He didn’t even manage to close his eyes. He lay in his bed running circles in his head about what the morning would bring. 

Around midnight Izuku came to a realization and he blamed his wrecked nerves on the fact that it took him that long. 

Whatever his dad had planned, Izuku wanted _nothing_ to do with it.

He’d considered running away in the past, especially after his grandparents passed and his mom had been driven off. The logistics of the thing had always intimidated him too much to get past that initial impulse. Izuku knew that he had no way of supporting himself and anyone he ran to wouldn’t be able to keep him. Not to mention his Force training. Leaving meant giving up on all that --unless he took the journals and practical manuals his ancestors had passed down through the generations with him. If he did that then he would never get away. His dad would hunt him _wherever_ he went.

This, though. This was too much.

The apartment was dark and empty when Izuku crept out of his bedroom with a bag containing everything he could carry, but far too little to start a new life. He didn’t know what he was going to do about money or food or shelter. Those were questions he’d have to answer later.

His dad wasn’t in the master bedroom when Izuku peeked in through the door. Wherever he was and whatever he was doing, Izuku was alone for the moment.

After thinking long and hard, he’d come to the conclusion that there was only one of the family teaching materials he could afford to take with him. The journals were too old and fragile to come with him on the run. 

Midoriya Hisashi was many things, but gifted at hiding his valuables wasn’t one of them. All of the Midoriya family heirlooms and important documents lived in an unlocked fireproof safe under his bed.

Izuku slid the safe out and started to empty it. He was pleased to find some cash hidden in the safe, but the other contents weren’t much if you didn’t know what you were looking at. Izuku’s grandfather’s light saber went into the backpack along with his own birth certificate. The last thing he took was an unassuming cube of glass and bronzy looking metal, which he carefully wrapped in a shirt and nestled into his backpack. The holocron was old, but less delicate than it looked. It would travel better than the journals. If he had to take just one training aid then it had to be that one.

The pre-dawn sky was just beginning to blush along the horizon when he snuck out the back door. There was no yard attached to the apartment so the door let out onto a fenced in square where the garbage bins waited for pick up day. Izuku’s heart pounded in his chest as he unlatched the gate to let himself out. 

A tentative plan was coming together in his head. He’d get on the train and call Yagi-san. He had the hero’s personal number for emergencies and if ever there had been an emergency in Izuku’s short existance this was it. Izuku got five steps into the service alley when the floor vanished underneath him and he was dumped onto another, cleaner concrete floor.

“Ow…” He groaned and blinked at the polished shoes of the person standing over him. He looked up and recognized Kurogiri, who was holding his backpack.

“How unfortunate.” The villain murmured, half to himself. “I had so hoped to be wrong about you.”

They were in a room made of poured cement. Izuku looked around, trying to get his bearings. There were no windows, just harsh bars of fluorescent lights over shelves of assorted liquor bottles. It was cold enough that he thought they might be underground; maybe in a basement?

“You may feel free to look for an exit.” Kurogiri continued, unconcerned by Izuku’s lack of attentiveness. “I had the stairwell filled in a long time ago. The only way in or out is through my warp gate. You will wait here until I return to collect you. In the meantime, do try not to bother your fellow inmate.”

“My… _what?”_

Kurogiri pointed and Izuku realized there was something very large on the other side of a freestanding shelf of sake bottles. He hadn’t noticed the quiet sound of its breathing until Kurogiri had pointed it out.

“Noumu has very little brain activity on a good day so I doubt it will notice you.” Kurogiri paused thoughtfully. “Then again, no one has been foolish enough to try and irritate it. Who knows what it will do?”

A black circle trimmed in twisted dark energy appeared behind Kurogiri and he stepped backwards into it. It vanished with a flicker and Izuku clapped both hands over his mouth to keep from screaming. 

There was a door, but Kurogiri hadn’t been lying. Izuku could tell that it had been sealed shut. It was warped in the frame and hardened concrete welled up through the spots where there’d once been weather stripping. He tried pulling on it anyway in case there was some kind of trick, but he had no luck. 

“I don’t _want_ to be a villain.” Izuku hissed to himself as he paced.

Noumu made a grumpy noise and he froze mis-step. The hulking shape just barely visible through the gaps in the shelf rustled and then settled again, as though it were getting comfortable. 

Curious now, Izuku crept over to the end of the sake shelf. At first he’d thought that Noumu was a person with another morphological quirk like Kurogiri, but Kurogiri had called Noumu an ‘it.’ 

Noumu’s back was facing Izuku when he got enough courage together to peek around the shelf. It was big for sure, but mostly human-shaped. It’s skin was a deep shade of blue-black, but it’s face… 

It turned in response to some noise Izuku must have made and he got a look at it’s long sharp beak, wide mad eyes, and above all that; Noumu’s exposed brain pulsing and exposed to the open air.

Izuku should have been afraid and he _was_ on some level because his situation was terrifying, but Kurogiri had been right about one thing. Izuku had instinctively reached out to touch the top surface of the creature’s mind when it spotted him and found absolutely _nothing_ going on under its horrific exterior. It had some brief instinctive reactions to outside stimuli If it heard a noise then it would look in that direction, but nothing more.

That didn’t mean he planned on getting within arms’ reach.

The odd whooshing sound of Kurogiri’s warp gate filled the room again, but he did not appear. Instead a stack of folded clothes, Izuku’s lightsaber, his mask, and his black hiking boots dropped down from a gate hovering about a foot above the floor and Kurogiri’s voice followed them.

“Your father requests that you change now.” 

* * *

Toshinori had _never_ been more tempted to play hooky from work in his life.

The morning had started out at a normal level of frustration. The hot water in his apartment had never been all that reliable, but the taps had all run icy cold when he’d gone to wash his face. He could hear the couple next door, who were usually great and loving people, get into a fight over breakfast that put his already frayed nerves on edge.

He could have dealt with that and usually would have sublimated his bad mood into a little hero-work on his way to school, but he was worried about Midoriya after he’d run off the train the day before. Spending some time with the boy would be nice too, assuming he was forgiven. Toshinori had genuinely liked Midoriya to begin with. That feeling had only grown the more he had to deal with other teenagers and developed a basis for comparison. 

Except.

Except, Midoriya hadn’t been _on_ the train.

If it had been anyone else then Toshinori would have assumed the boy was home sick and probably asleep. He wasn’t answering texts either, which was _very_ unlike him if school wasn’t in session. He’d been upset more often of late. Now granted, Midoriya was one big jangling nerve on a good day, but it had been different in the past few weeks; bad enough so that Toshinori had felt moved to involve Naomasa for all the good it had done anyone. 

Toshinori could hear Naomasa’s advice in the back of his head as he left the train station and found a private place to change over to the form better suited to serious business.

It was probably nothing and he didn’t have any business checking on the child.

...but what if it _wasn’t?_

In the end, Toshinori knew he only ever really regretted the things he _hadn’t_ done and went to Midoriya’s apartment.

It was a modest ground level unit and he’d only ever been there once before to note the location. The windows were all dark, but the curtains in the living room window weren’t quite drawn. Toshinori took a quick peek inside and breathed a sigh of relief. 

The boy’s bright yellow backpack was on the floor leaning against a black couch next to his discarded sneakers. Moreover, a phone in a silicone ALL M case that Toshinori recognized (and was regularly mortified by) lay face down on the small end table nearest to the window.

Toshinori backed up to a more appropriate distance with mixed embarrassment and relief. The boy was just sick and he’d been worried over nothing.

He’d ended up running late; so late in fact that he hadn’t been able to travel at street level and had to take much longer, more powerful jumps in other to touch down on the UA campus in time to be waiting by the bus when Aizawa brought his homeroom class out.

At least he’d be starting the school day with most of the time still on his clock for the field trip and in retrospect he was glad events had worked out the way they did. He probably wouldn’t have to sneak off before the exercise was over for once. That was something he’d promised himself he’d get better at and he was going to need every second he had just for the lecture portion of the day. Thirteen was an amazing rescue hero, but when they got to talking they could go on for _quite_ a while.

* * *

It had been hours since Kurogiri had shown up to take away Izuku’s discarded clothes. He’d also confiscated Izuku’s phone at that time -not that there was any signal to be had in a cement box- but as time wore on and boredom set in Izuku wished he at least had something to read.

He’d been examining Noumu through the Force in lieu of anything else to do. It was definitely an ‘it’. It’s exterior appearance was masculine, but other than that it was biologically neutral. Someone had put pants on it so maybe it had privacy to protect. Izuku suspected it didn’t. 

Izuku wasn’t actually all that sure it had even been born naturally. Its interior processes were inefficient in some ways and nonfunctional in others. It could move and vocalize a little, but that was it. Izuku was pretty sure if left alone it would die in a few weeks.

He closed his eyes as he heard a warp gate open somewhere in the basement.

“Noumu, go through the gate.” Someone said. “Where’s the other one?”

Izuku didn’t recognize the new voice, but he recognized Kurogiri when he replied.

“The apprentice will stay here until his master calls for him, Shigaraki.” He said. “He and Sensei are setting up some sort of practical lesson. I didn’t inquire about the details.”

“Sensei can have whatever he wants, but they had better not interfere with my raid.” Shigaraki muttered. “We should be _done_ with the recruitment quests by now.”

“Perhaps.” Kurogiri sounded unconcerned. “After you.”

The hum of the gate faded and Izuku dropped his face down onto his knees. 

So he was the ‘apprentice.’ At least they weren’t using his name. That gave him a slight chance to get through the day without getting a criminal record.

He waited, curled up in a ball, for another half hour or so until Kurogiri finally returned. By then Izuku was tired and hungry, having burned through whatever reserves he had left after his terrible morning.

A stranger dressed all in black preceded Kurogiri through the warp gate. He was tall and wore a full black mask under a hooded robe that almost looked like…

Izuku felt the touch of a familiar mind against his. 

“Sir.” He swallowed on the lump in his throat as he recognized both aspects of the villain in front of im. 

Dragon wasn’t on the news much. Izuku only knew him from some of the crazier spotter blogs. He was less of a street villain and more of a growing Kingpin type. He didn’t operate in Aldera, but his territory comprised several of the nearby districts. Izuku had once thought that was due to the Hero presence in Aldera, but apparently that was because his dad knew better than to cause a mess where he slept. 

“Get up now.” His dad’s mask had some kind of voice modulator built into it. It made him sound flat and robotic, but looked like it could hinge open at the jaw; probably to let his dad use his Quirk. “Put on your mask and do not speak until I give you permission. If you must speak, address me as ‘master’ or ‘sir.’ You will follow my orders and _only_ my orders. Understood?”

Izuku started to say ‘yes’, but thought better of it and just nodded.

“Good.” It was hard to read tone through a modulator, but his dad seemed almost… relieved? “We will discuss what happened this morning later. Now, follow me.”

Izuku wanted out of the basement bad enough to do just about anything so he followed his dad through the gate and out into a… a forest? He looked up and realized there was a translucent dome overhead visible through the tree cover with artificial lights built into it. They were on a rocky slope. Was it supposed to be some kind of mountain scene?

“This is a training ground for heroes.” His dad explained as they walked. “The Unforeseen Simulation Joint. Our new friends have an operation going on here and have been kind enough to let us participate.”

The trees began to show signs of damage as they walked; scorched bark and torn branches. It looked like someone had been fighting here and recently.

“There is a rescue workshop in session right now --or _was._ I would have planned this differently were it my operation. Murdering an entire class of student heroes seems overly theatrical, but I wasn’t consulted.” Hisashi added. “On the bright side, this tragedy _has_ given me an opportunity to correct a deficiency in your training.”

Izuku stopped. He _had_ to have heard that wrong.

Hisashi kept walking. “You’ve always been a kind child and prioritized the needs of others above yourself. I’ve had no complaints with your socialization for the most part. ” He didn’t sound like he had an opinion on the matter, good or bad. “Easy forgiveness is a commendable attitude and has served you well for the most part, but not always. You need to learn self interest.”

They entered a smallish clearing that had been utterly wrecked. Trees lay fallen all around them and some were still smouldering.

In the center of the clearing were two boys imprisoned with these sort of scaffolding restraints made out of twisted rebar that looked like it had been pulled straight out of a horror movie. Izuku didn’t recognize the redhead, but the other boy…

“Kacchan!” Izuku yelped and started to run only to hit an invisible barrier a few feet away from his childhood friend. He dug his feet into the ground and only succeeded in leaving two ruts in the soft earth as his father pulled him back with the Force.

“I didn’t expect you’d manage to follow all the rules I gave you, but you did try. That will have to suffice for now.” Hisashi sighed. He turned Izuku to face him. “You’re still concerned for that boy. Why?”

“Stop it.” Izuku big into his own lip as he felt a foreign presence enter his mind. He struggled against it and it _hurt_ . “Get _out._ ”

“No, I want to understand why you think that brat is your friend.” Hisashi touched a gloved hand to Izuku’s forehead. The invasion became stronger until suddenly it retreated leaving behind an echo of Kacchan’s voice. 

_..take a swan dive off the school roof..._

Hisashi dusted off his palms with distaste. “I’m not too familiar with the normal behavior between friends, but I’m certain that’s not it.” He held up his hand and Izuku’s lightsaber flew into his palm. “You always want to live for others and that is an insidious weakness. You give what you can’t spare. You forgive when no one apologized. Your mercy will consume you so I’ve arranged this lesson.”

He turned Izuku to face Kacchan and pressed the lightsaber into Izuku’s trembling hand.

“Peace is a lie, there is only passion.” Hisashi quoted a poem from one of the oldest journals they had and Izuku felt sick laughter bubble up inside him. Was he _seriously_ quoting the crazy cultists who’d persecuted their ancestors? Was that really happening? “Through passion, you will gain strength. Through strength, power. Through power, victory. Through victory your chains will be broken.” Hisashi pointed at Kacchan. “Look at that boy and for once let yourself _feel_ your hate.”

The air in the mountain district was unnaturally still. Aside from the dome overheard, it was the only hint you couldn’t ignore that you were standing in an artificial environment.

Izuku’s throat clenched as he met Kacchan’s furious gaze.


	2. Part Two

Izuku’s saber didn’t ignite until halfway through the swing, flying harmlessly past Kacchan’s pale face. He threw himself into the motion turning on his heel and pivoting back to slam into Hisashi’s unprotected side.

...or _not_ unprotected. Izuku’s wild strike bit deep into his father’s upper arm, but Hisashi’s reflexes were too good. He staggered, but got his saber up to deflect just at the last moment. Izuku’s lightsaber crackled dangerously and the blade shorted out. Hisashi gestured and threw Izuku back with a shockwave of energy. 

Izuku slid back several feet and managed to keep his footing, but only just barely.

“Y- _you_ …” Hisashi stumbled backwards, his face was already ashy gray. His arm was hanging on by three grotesque inches of muscle. The stump bled sluggishly, being mostly cauterized but there was this smell in the air like a barbeque in the distance. Izuku swallowed hard to keep his stomach from rising up. He could see his dad’s _bones_. “I’ll… I…”

He didn’t get to finish saying what he’d do. Kurogiri had been hanging back, popping in and out as he oversaw the rest of the battlefield, but now he took action. Black smoke enveloped Hisashi and swallowed up both him and his shriek of rage when he realized what was happening.

Izuku scrambled for a plan. He had a minute at most before Kurogiri was ready to teleport someone again. Hisashi had thrown him free of Kacchan, but --that _other_ kid was in reach. 

Obviously, he didn’t seem thrilled when Izuku approached.

“I’m cutting you free!” Izuku hissed as the kid thrashed.

“...huh?” The red haired kid gulped. “Uh, okay?”

The rebar was already fatigued from whatever Hisashi had done to acquire it. There were still bits of concrete attached although there were none of those fake ruins around nearby. It cut easier than hardened steel would have normally, which meant he had an ally free faster. 

Izuku didn’t like what that implied. His dad had been planning this far enough in advance that he had all his materials lined up ahead of time. How long had he been _planning_ this? Why had he been planning it at all?

Red haired kid was pretty strong and once Izuku got him room to maneuver he was able to bend some of the bars away on his own. He bounced on his toes a few times once he was loose and nodded to nobody in particular. 

“I’m good. Help my bro next.” 

Izuku gulped. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Kacchan having a friend already; a _nice_ friend too. Kacchan had barely liked his own henchmen in middle school and was famous for slapping down any hand extended to him until the only people who’d hang around him were the other class bullies and desperate idiots like Izuku. How had he managed to turn _that_ around? Izuku didn’t have time to dwell on it fortunately or he knew he’d end up chasing his own metaphorical tail for hours. “O-okay, keep an eye out for Kurogiri.”

“Are you serious?” Kacchan snarled. His hands weren’t sparking anymore, but his color was awful and Izuku wondered if he’d even be able to leave the area by himself. “You know that fucker’s name?”

“I-I need you to keep still, Kacchan.” Izuku ignored the way the red-haired kid echoed ‘Kacchan’ to himself with inappropriate delight, considering their circumstances and his job as lookout. Maybe he was just too dumb to realize Kacchan didn’t do ‘friendship’ or stubborn enough to just ignore it? “Dad’s been having people over a lot. I wasn’t allowed to listen, but they were probably planning this attack. I ran into him once.”

“Since when is your dad a fucking villain?” Kacchan didn’t stop shouting or demanding answers to his questions, but he did hold it briefly whenever Izuku got too close to him with the saber. He was more tightly penned in than his classmate, but that was probably due to his quirk. Izuku didn’t know what the other kid could do, but it probably wasn’t an emitter quirk. “... and _what the fuck_ is that thing?”

“I don’t know. He’s been weird for a while now, but not like _this_.” Izuku beckoned to the red haired kid. “Um, hey you… sorry, I don’t know your name. C-can you hold him up? If I cut these last two pieces then he might fall on the stuff sticking up out of the ground.”

The red haired kid didn’t hesitate and got himself under Kacchan’s midsection. “I got you.” He paused and added, “...and it’s Kirishima.”

“Nice t-to meet you. Wish the circumstances were better.” Izuku cut the last sections of rebar and Kacchan fell heavily onto Kirishima, who started to buckle but managed to keep his feet under him.

“You’re telling me.” Kirishima got Kacchan away from the rebar trap and set him down. “Ok, we need to check you over.”

Kacchan bristled. “I’m fine, asshole.”

Izuku decided Kirishima was probably too good for Kacchan, but maybe he’d be a good influence on him. 

He reached out with his senses just to verify Kacchan’s assessment and exhaled in relief. Kacchan’s legs looked like they’d lost circulation for a bit, but not long enough to give him anything worse than pins and needles. He had what looked like bruising along his torso and his legs where the bars had been holding most of his weight, but nothing like what anyone else would have suffered after being on the business end of his explosions.

“Come on, bro.” Kirishima insisted. “Don’t be a baby about this.”

“K-kacchan’s resistant to his own quirk. If he can walk then he’s probably okay.” Izuku interjected hastily before he could give into his own slightly hysterical laughter and earned himself a nasty look from Kacchan, but they all flinched as a guttural howl spread through the USJ.

“Well, I think I know where the party got moved to.” Kirishima was the first to recover. “We’d better move before that mist guy comes back.”

“Sounded like it came from the central area where the bus is.” Kacchan got himself upright. He was looking better already, which was good because Izuku knew the day wasn’t over.

“Who else is here?” Izuku scanned the area. “I was locked in a basement before Kurogiri brought me here. I don’t… really know what’s going on except for what my dad tried to do.”

“Oh, _bullshi-”_

Kirishima cut Kacchan off. He looked like it was something he had gotten used to doing and Izuku felt for him. “We were here to do rescue training. There were three teachers with us and one of them is All Might, but… they said they’d come here specifically to kill him. There’s a dozen villains here easy, but some of them looked like they were just small fry. I didn’t get a great look before the mist guy split us up.”

“O-okay.” Izuku heard himself start to wheeze and slapped his cheeks, trying to force down the panic. 

Yagi-san was here and Izuku was part of a group trying to _kill_ him. 

“I’ll follow you guys.” He wheezed.

Kirishima didn’t seem convinced. “Hey, I know you saved us and all but you don’t look so good.”

“I…” Izuku’s throat clenched. “I-I almost cut off my dad’s _arm_ just now, okay? He’s a-awful, but he’s still… he was...”

He could still _smell_ it.

“Oh man, that was you dad? Hey, hey…” Kirishima looked at Kacchan for help, but Izuku could have told him that was a bad idea. Kacchan couldn’t handle other people’s emotions, not even when they were kids and he’d been marginally less of a dick. He either froze up or said something awful to deflect the situation.

This time there was a miracle and Kacchan shouldered his way in between Izuku and Kirishima. “We need to _move_ , assholes. Braid each other’s hair later.”

He was right, too.

Izuku shoved his emotions down as far as they would go and got up to follow.

The mountain region was smaller than he would have guessed. They didn’t encounter any more villains until they hit the Landslide zone and found a bunch of them all encased in ice. 

“Looks like Todoroki’s been through here.” Kirishima commented as they skirted around the frozen villains. 

“Fuckin’ show off.” Kacchan muttered.

That had been done by a student? That was the class of person accepted at UA? Izuku wondered if maybe everyone had been right and he _had_ been an unrealistic dreamer to think he could cut it as a hero without a quirk. He had his Force abilities, but those were weren’t for _using._ They were for the preservation of knowledge. He’d promised his grandfather on his deathbed to keep the family secrets. Could he have held all that back while attending the most prestigious and competitive school in the nation?

One of the domes visible in the distance shattered then; a big black something punched through the shell and shot into the sky.

Izuku suspected he knew what it was and had to bite his lip to keep from saying anything. _Yagi-san was okay_. As terrible as everything was at the moment he had something he could hold onto. The villains had come for All Might, but they hadn’t succeeded in taking him down.

“T-there. That’s where your teachers are, right?” Izuku pointed and the others nodded.

“Yeah, there was a big bird-faced villain like that.” Kirishima confirmed. “Bet you All Might just handed him his own butt!”

They ran. Izuku could see other students now and they were all converging on the central plaza. At some point someone had blasted another hole in the dome, but this one was lower to the ground so they were able to get in even though the main doors were sealed.

All Might was facing off against another villain; a lean guy covered in dismembered hands. Kurogiri was present as an amorphous cloud, but he didn’t seem to be interfering. 

“That’s Aizawa-sensei.” Kirishima hissed, pointing to a crumbled man in black a short distance away from All Might. He was laying face down in a small pool of his own blood. “Shit, that looks bad.”

“Thirteen is down too.” Kacchan nodded in the direction of a person in a padded suit. The back of their suit was shredded, but there wasn’t visible blood assuming. Instead there was just inky darkness showing through the ragged gaps in the hero’s costume.

Izuku didn’t recognize the name Aizawa, but he knew about Thirteen. They specialized in disaster relief, which explained what they were doing at the USJ. If they’d been doing Rescue training then Thirteen was _the_ person to learn from. Both teachers were still alive, but their presence in the Force was guttering low. Of the two of them, Aizawa had taken the most damage but he was closer.

The hands villain was agile and when he caught himself on a chunk of rubble the stone disintegrated under his touch. He didn’t even seem to notice, which meant his quirk was passive. That was a bad match up. He was a bad type to get into close combat with and All Might already seemed winded. Izuku had no idea how much of his time he’d used that day.

He needed help.

Izuku wet his lips. “H-hey, Kirishima. I think I can get one of your teachers back on their feet.” It was going to _suck_ , but the way things were going weren’t good. Something needed to change and Izuku was pretty sure he knew how Yagi-san would feel about two of his students wading into a bad fight; especially with that guy. “Who can help the most?”

Kacchan was the one who answered. “Aizawa.” No hesitation. No shouting. Izuku had forgotten what Kacchan was like when he got focused on an objective. It was reassuring, especially when Izuku felt like he was teetering on the edge of a breakdown. “He was holding the entire group off before and has a nullifier quirk. You positive about this, Deku?”

“Y-yeah. Just get me over there and cover me. I’m… probably gonna pass out after.”

“ _Great_.” Kacchan muttered, but he grabbed Izuku by the back of the shirt and hauled him to his feet. “Let’s go.”

No one was paying them any mind. All Might made too good of a distraction. Izuku skidded to his knees at the fallen teacher’s side. This close up he realized he _did_ know who Aizawa was; _Eraserhead_.

Eraserhead worked in Izuku’s neighborhood sometimes and was recognizable by his big yellow goggles. Izuku had seen his face a few times too. He posed as a homeless person a lot, which was pretty good urban camouflage. Even people who knew that was one of his favorite disguises still fell for it until they tried to give him money or something. 

He was in bad, bad shape right at that moment though; especially his head. Some of the damage was old and probably leftover from his active duty hours as a hero. Still, it wasn’t anything Izuku couldn’t fix. Traumatic injuries didn’t require any skill when it came to healing. The body knew its baseline configuration. All Izuku had to do was feed it energy and tell it to put itself back together.

The only problem was that Eraserhead’s body had nothing left to give so any energy was going to have to come from Izuku’s own reserves. As a Force adept, he had more to give than most. His personal reserve was not limitless though.

Obaasan could have done it without even getting winded… but Obaasan wasn’t around anymore. Izuku was going to have to be enough.

He cupped the fallen hero’s head and tried to focus his attention on the man’s skull. That was the worst; there and his back. It looked like something had been crouched on his back and slamming his face into the ground; probably Noumu.

Eraserhead’s system soaked up everything Izuku poured into it like water on thirsty soil. Black clouds coiled around him briefly when Kurogiri noticed them, but retreated under Kacchan’s explosive onslaught. Someone was shouting. Lots of people were shouting, actually. Izuku couldn’t break his focus though. His head was starting to hurt and his breath felt short, like he wasn’t getting enough air…

His last sight before he keeled over was his patient’s red eyes just starting to open.

* * *

Izuku came out of his brief swoon handcuffed to a gurney.

He squinted around in the bright light until he figured out that he was still in the central plaza of the USJ. There were more heroes around now, but also a battalion of first responders. A bunch of kids his age in hero costumes were sitting in a cluster off to one side of the plaza in shock blankets. He couldn’t see Kirishima or Kacchan, but he could feel Kacchan’s presence somewhere nearby. He seemed okay, but his emotions felt dull and flat which was upsetting all on its own. Izuku didn’t know Kirishima well enough to find him in the Force and hoped he was doing better.

Izuku’s gurney was in a small tent and to his surprise, he wasn’t alone. Thirteen occupied a cot next to him although they weren’t restrained. Two paramedics were working on the hero’s back, but their presence was much stronger than it had been and Izuku was pretty sure they’d make a full recovery.

“Hey, look who’s awake.”

A third paramedic leaned over him and Izuku blinked at them, unable to form words. 

“How are you feeling? Feel free to make a face if you’re not feeling verbal.” 

Izuku grimaced and shrugged as best he could. “M’tired.” He croaked. 

“Yeah, you’ve got a nasty case of quirk exhaustion from what I hear.” The paramedic agreed. “I’ve got an emergency gel packet here that should help if you think you can drink it without issues. Sorry about the restraints, but I have to leave them in place until a police officer can interview you. Don’t be scared though. One of the kids vouched for you. You’re not in trouble. Okay?”

“O-kay.” Izuku knew he should be worried, but his eyes felt like lead weights. He really just wanted to sleep for the next ten million years. The paramedic adjusted his gurney so he was sitting more upright then held a pouch to his mouth.

“See if you can suck that down. It’ll keep you from feeling worse down the road.”

It was guava flavored, which was a small mercy in an otherwise awful day. Izuku managed to get the whole thing down, but could not face the idea of a second when he was offered one.

“That’s fine. We can try again later.”

The food did help, but Izuku was still groggy and disoriented. He slumped back against the thin padding of the gurney and tried not to think about just how much worse things were about to get. His dad was gone. Izuku probably was not going to be able to go back to the apartment. His mom just had a port stay and wasn’t due for another for weeks yet. Her program might be able to get a message out to her, but it would depend on where they were out in the ice pack. Even then, it would take forever for her to find a way back. 

...and that assumed Izuku wasn’t headed straight for jail. 

Even if he _wasn’t_ , his dad was not going to forget _or_ forgive his betrayal. Izuku’s entire body started to tremble as reality set in. 

Hisashi was going to kill him for what he’d done. That was no exageration. He could feel his dad’s anger distantly in the Force. Hisashi wasn’t anywhere nearby, but he was alive and he was _furious_.

One of the paramedics noticed his shaking and hurried over.

“Hey, are you all right?” She asked.

Izuku could only shake his head. Hot tears were spilling down his face. “N-no… he’s go-gonna…” He gasped. “I’m… I’m…”

“Hey, I need oxygen over here! The kid is hyperventilating!”

Anyone in the tent who wasn’t busy with Thirteen converged on him. Izuku tried not to fight, but his thoughts were scattering away from him. He wanted his mom. He wanted this day to have never happened. He wanted… he wanted…

A tall shadow blocked out the light streaming in through the open front of the tent and Izuku’s wild gaze met Yagi-san’s wide blue eyes.

“Midoriya?” He looked back and forth between the paramedics for an explanation. “What… _why is he in handcuffs?”_

Things got very fragmented after that.

“All Might … you ... let the paramedics … work.”

Someone overturned a tray of metallic objects that clattered onto the ground.

Someone else shouted.

Izuku passed out for the second time.

This time he didn’t wake up for a long while.

* * *

_Three Days Later_

* * *

Yamada Hizashi didn’t often dislike anything enough to hate it, but appearing in court came _very_ close.

At least this time he’d only come to act as a witness for the prosecution in a civil suit. The last few times before that he’d been the defendant. It happened to every Pro Hero eventually and that was why every agency worth having a name on the door kept full time lawyers on staff. 

He wasn’t thrilled with his performance on the stand this time though. The last week had been tough. First they’d lost Hotaru-chan and then Sho landed in the hospital. He was having trouble keeping his Present Mic persona on. He kept backsliding into ‘Yamada Hizashi’ and right now the only thing _he_ wanted was to head to the hospital and catch a nap in Sho’s room.

Hizashi had been in the Musutafu municipal courthouse often enough that he could navigate it blindfolded, but sometimes his feet took him places when he wasn’t minding his surroundings. That was how he ended up in the area usually reserved for family court. He and Shouta had already been there several times during the long and thankless process of getting approved as candidates for foster adoption.

He stopped in the middle of the hall with a grimace and would have turned around to go back except he spotted a lone figure sitting on a bench outside one of the smaller meeting rooms. Not every case in family court came before a judge. Smaller cases were often settled by assistant district representatives in rooms much like that.

“Bakugo?” Hizashi got a little closer and… yes. That was one of his students there sitting outside a courtroom staring a hole into the tiled floor at his feet.

Last Hizashi had heard, Bakugo’s home situation was fine. Everyone in the Heroics Program underwent a background check as part of their admission. They’d had domestic violence incidents come to light during an admissions investigation before, but Bakugo Katsuki’s family life was surprisingly okay considering all his personality defects. He had loving parents with creative jobs and a stable relationship that made time for him and supported his career ambitions. He had no business being where he was.

Time to get nosy.

“Hey there, little listener!” Hizashi got about the expression he expected from the boy as he announced himself. “Everything all right in there?” He nodded at the closed door.

Bakugo jerked his attention away from Hizashi and explained with surprising venom. “It’s some _bullshit_ going on.” He paused and added, “Nothing to do with me. It’s… somebody else. My old hag is their emergency guardian and he’s in police custody, but they won’t release him even though he ain’t being charged with a crime.”

 _Police_ custody…

Hizashi’s eyes widened as he remembered the ten million after action meetings the UA staff had been through following the USJ incident. Granted, his attention had largely been elsewhere considering Shouta’s injuries, but he vaguely recalled that the Bakugo and Midoriya families went back a ways. The connection must have been closer than anyone realized if Bakugo’s parents were in there fighting for Midoriya’s kid, despite what Midoriya had planned for theirs.

“Are we talking about the villain kid from the USJ?” He asked and got some fireworks out of Bakugo in response. It was nothing compared to what he knew the kid was capable of; just some sparks and a show of aggression.

“He _ain’t a fuckin_ …” The kid actually managed to rein himself in, which is something Hizashi didn’t think he’d _ever_ get to see. His interest in the situation grew. “Yeah. That’s him. His mom’s out of the country right now and nobody can reach her. He’s supposed to go to my ma if anything happens to his dad, but the old bitch in there says we can’t be in the same house because of the _investigation.”_ Bakugo threw himself back onto the bench with a theatrical snort and crossed his arms.

Hizashi heard a woman’s voice hit a strident note audible through the closed door. “Odd.” He mused. “I would have guessed that All Might would have been first in line to take the boy in. They seemed close.”

Close was actually putting it mildly. Yagi had been about ready to fight the paramedics when he found Midoriya Junior restrained and in the process of passing out in the aid tent. Nemuri had been forced to gas him otherwise he might well have.

Bakugo shook his head. “They already shot him down. I don’t know why.”

As weird as the idea of anyone telling the Symbol of Peace ‘no’ was, Hizashi could guess at their reasoning. He’d just been through it himself, after all. 

All Might was single and a full time pro with a second job. On top of that, he was an immigrant with no family anyone knew about so he had no personal support network that could extend to cover a child. The district rep had probably laughed him out of the courtroom assuming they’d let him in at all. He could provide security that the Bakugos couldn’t, but not the supervision a stressed and displaced teen needed. Meanwhile the Bakugos could provide Izuku with supervision and support, but they couldn’t protect him from reprisal from his villain father.

An idea was forming in the back of his mind; an awful idea, a _wonderful_ awful idea…

Shouta was in the hospital because of the villain assault on Thirteen’s rescue workshop, but thanks to that kid he was only there for observation and to recover from some rhinoplasty when the surgical team in charge of him had been anticipating needing to _rebuild part of his skull._ Given the external damage, they’d even been talking about permanent damage to his eyesight and the potential reduction of his quirk --but whatever the kid had done to get Sho back on his feet and into the fight had still been going by the time the doctors had put Shouta into a CAT scan. They’d watched in amazement as the little hairline fractures remaining in Sho’s orbital floor closed before their eyes. Any lingering damage was strictly cosmetic.

Hizashi wet his lips. Sho would kill him if he did the thing he was maybe absolutely about to do. 

...probably.

Sho would _probably_ kill him, but hell would also freeze over before either of them turned away a displaced child. 

That kid had saved his husband’s career, if not his life. There wasn’t much difference between the two really for Eraserhead.

Hizashi got out his phone and texted Shouta.

 **Hizashi:** About to do something stupid and impulsive. Love you.

Shouta’s half-joking response was almost instantaneous, which was concerning considering he wasn’t supposed to be on his phone in the hospital room.

 **Sho <3:** The extension for my room is 213 if you end up needing bail.

Hizashi bit down on his smile and all the feelings of affection that came with it. 

**Hizashi:** Will do.

He replied and shoved his phone in his pocket before Sho could reply, which he did at once and continued to do -one alarmed text after another- as Hizashi let himself into the closed courtroom.

* * *

Izuku sat stiff and miserable between two bailiffs as Aunt Mitsuki hit her stride. “You have no reason to keep holding him.” She snarled. “I’ll put in any security measures in my home you think are necessary, but Izuku-kun isn’t a criminal. You can’t just stick him in prison for saving someone’s life and say it’s for his own good.”

The district rep overseeing his case, a middle aged woman with a set of six mismatched wings currently mantled up in irritation, smiled tightly. “That is not the purpose of this hearing, Bakugo-san.” She replied. “While Midoriya-kun is not being charged with a crime at this point, the police are still investigating the USJ assault. I personally find it unlikely that they will find him to be complicit in his father’s actions, but I do have to account for the possibility. Your son was a primary target of the League of Villains alongside All Might. No other person involved was so singled out. He and Midoriya-kun cannot have unsupervised contact until Midoriya has been cleared of all suspicion. That can’t happen if they are living in the same house.”

They’d been arguing this point for a while now and the representative had so far refused to budge. It was a testament to Aunt Mitsuki’s tenacity that they were even meeting face-to-face. All Might’s application for temporary custody had been rejected over the phone.

Izuku could see the writing on the wall. He was going back to jail.

He’d spent that first night after the USJ incident in a hospital bed, which wouldn’t have been bad except for the restraints. Nurses had come by every hour or so with a high calorie, high density meal replacements until his doctor was confident that Izuku wouldn’t burn through any more of his body fat. 

Every night since then had been spent in a jail cell at the Musutafu juvenile detention center; an environment which had managed to do the impossible and made him homesick for the hospital. The catheter hadn’t been so bad in retrospect. His room was in the area reserved for the inmates with ‘good behavior’ and minor offenses, but his door still locked on the outside and at night the halls echoed with people shouting and sometimes crying.

“Excuse me?”

Izuku looked up as someone spoke up from just inside the door to the meeting room he’d been trapped in for the last two hours. He hadn’t heard the door open so the man must have been there for a while listening to Aunt Mitsuki wrangle with the district rep.

He was tall and rail thin, wearing studded black leather with tinted sunglasses. Izuku knew who he was, of course. Of the current top twenty heroes, Present Mic had the best brand recognition considering he doubled as a hero, musician, and radio personality. 

The representative was not amused. “This is a closed session, sir. Please leave.”

Present Mic did not leave. “Dear listeners, I think I can help.”

A muscle ticked in the representative’s jaw, but she didn’t set the bailiffs on him so apparently _no one_ was immune to star power. “Do tell.” She said at last. 

“If I heard correctly, you can’t release the little listener here…” He gestured to Izuku, “... to a family who can’t guarantee both his good behavior and his safety. Correct?”

“In essence.” The representative rocked back on her heels with her arms crossed, looking thoughtful. “Are you offering an alternative?”

“Yes.” Mic blushed and rubbed the back of his head in a boyish gesture that actually managed to thaw out his audience a little. “My husband and I are already an approved foster family. We haven’t been matched with a child yet so we have a room going spare. I think two pro heroes could provide the environment you’re looking for. We both teach at UA so we have experience with kids in his age group and there’s two of us. We can arrange our schedules so he won’t go unsupervised.”

The rep reached for her laptop. “You’ve been through the onboarding process for new foster parents?”

“Yes, ma’am. We’ve completed all the basic courses and my husband has done extra workshops in parenting traumatized children. We’ve been through the background checks and have passed all our home inspections.”

“I see you in the database.” She paused, frowning, as she reviewed the profile page open on her screen. “Your husband is Eraserhead? Wasn’t he involved in the USJ incident?”

Izuku’s burgeoning hope was snuffed out. If he couldn’t stay with the Bakugos because of Kacchan then they wouldn’t let him stay with another victim of the attack. Eraserhead had actually gotten _hurt._

“Yes.” Present Mic didn’t seem concerned though. “It would be different than placing the little guy in a home with one of the students. He was given a single target under duress and wasn’t involved with the wider assault. Eraserhead is an adult and I’m sure the investigative team working the little listener’s case would prefer to have him in a calmer environment than juvie.”

“You aren’t wrong and I _am_ reluctant to return him to protective custody. It serves his immediate safety needs, but I am not indifferent to the long term effects prolonged incarceration would have on the boy.” The rep considered the man standing before her with flat, black eyes that gave away nothing as she came to her decision. 

“Present Mic, I want you to be aware that this would _not_ be a short term placement.” She said at last. “Midoriya-kun’s mother is out of contact and has been denied custody several times in the past. The records of those hearings are vague though and fail to establish the court’s reasonings for those denials so I find them suspect considering her ex-husband’s extralegal activities. If she reapplies this court would grant her the opportunity to make her case. That being said, she would need to re-establish residence in the country and provide proof of local employment before I could even consider returning the boy to her care. In the meantime, Midoriya-kun will require constant supervision until he’s officially cleared by the police. As his guardian, you would be responsible for making sure he continues his schooling and also clearing up some irregularities with his personal documentation. He was registered as quirkless, which is clearly no longer the case. That will need to be resolved immediately.”

“It won’t be a problem.” Present Mic promised then he caught Izuku’s eye and gave him a tiny little wave. A hero -not just any hero, _Present Mic_ \- was _waving_ at him. His fanboy heart could not take it, but he managed to wave back without dying.

“Midoriya-kun, is this an acceptable option for you?” The rep addressed Izuku for the first time since they’d entered the room. Her wings were tucked now and she felt a lot calmer to Izuku’s senses than she had been when it had been Aunt Mitsuki arguing with her. 

“You don’t have to go anywhere you don’t want.” Aunt Mitsuki broke in, trying to sound reassuring but her expression looked pinched. She couldn’t win and she knew it. If Izuku rejected Present Mic’s offer then he was going back to the detention center. 

“N-no, I’m actually a big fan of your show.” Izuku found a tremulous smile somewhere. “If you don’t mind and Eraserhead is okay with it…”

“Then it’s a done deal!” Present Mic beamed and inserted himself between Izuku and one of the bailiffs. The guy bristled, but backed off in the face of Mic’s megawatt smile. Izuku was more crowded than ever, but Present Mic’s presence was less oppressive than the bailiff’s and he felt like he could breathe. 

That wasn’t the end of it, of course. There was a small mountain of paperwork to complete and a ton of questions for Present Mic to answer about the circumstances in which he planned to keep Izuku. They were probably cutting a _lot_ of corners given the fact that Eraserhead wasn’t around to agree to any of the things his husband was apparently signing them up for. The voice hero endured it all with grace until finally the representative gave them her blessings and left the room with the bailiffs trailing after her. 

“We’re gonna have a _blast_ , little listener.” Present Mic pulled Izuku into a sideways hug that made his brain short out a little. He hadn’t quite realized until that moment that this was _real_ and he was going to move in with the personality behind _70% of his favorite media._

“Um, just Izuku is fine.” Izuku wheezed as Present Mic led him over to Aunt Mitsuki.

“You can call me Mic in that case.” The hero shot him a softer smile than he’d seen before. “We generally use professional names outside of the house, but I don’t think you need to use the whole title.”

Aunt Mitsuki pulled Izuku into another hug. That crossed the line into more nonviolent physical contact than he’d had since his mom left and he was pretty sure his whole body was about to dissolve into a puddle of overstimulated goo. “You’re giving me gray hairs, kid.” She rocked him from side to side. “That’s Katsuki’s job.”

“Sorry, Auntie.” Izuku relaxed into the embrace. It was fine. He didn’t mind being goo. “Thank you.”

She smoothed his hair down. “Of course, kiddo. I’d have done it even if I hadn’t promised your mom that I’d look after you. We’ll do dinner once the police clear you to see Katsuki again. Your guardians can come too, I guess.” She added, giving Mic a dubious look. 

“We’ll look forward to it.” Mic whipped his phone out. “Mind exchanging contacts? I’d like to be able to get in contact with you in the case of an emergency.”

“Oh, sure.” Auntie Mitsuki thawed a little further as they swapped texts. “Are you two going to be alright? I need to collect the brat before he goes off on someone. I’ve probably left it too long already.”

“I-I think we’re fine.” Izuku looked at his new guardian for confirmation. “My stuff is still at the detention center, but All Might offered to bring his truck around if we needed to go get it.”

“Then we’ll do that first.” Mic promised. “Do you have a phone? Or does someone need to call him.”

“I have one, but it’s been disconnected.”

They hit the hallway about then and Kacchan looked up from where he’d been glaring at the wall. He flipped through the entire gamut of emotions too quick for Izuku to get a read on any of them. He settled on a gruff, disinterested expression that did not at all reflect everything he had going on under the surface. That was pretty normal for Kacchan though. It almost made Izuku feel like things were back to the usual. 

“You comin’ home with us, nerd?” He asked.

“No, I’m going to be staying with Present Mic and his family.”

Kacchan squinted. “He’s married?” He looked at Mic. “Someone _married_ you?”

Whoops, it looked like Mic wasn’t out at work. Izuku bit his tongue and hoped Kacchan wouldn’t press.

“Sure did, little listener.” Mic didn’t seem offended. “It surprises me sometimes too. Izuku, we should probably get a move on. I want to make sure we can get your things before it starts getting dark.”

Yagi-san showed up suspiciously fast after Mic called him, but Izuku was too glad to see the man to question it. 

Collecting his belongings from the center was predictably awful. He didn’t have anything in his cell, aside from a few changes of clothing. All his other belongings had gone into the ‘property’ room and it took an hour for the clerk on duty to find everything. Some of his more valuable limited edition posters ended up ‘lost’, but the important stuff -the family journals and the holocron- was all there. 

If Izuku had ever spent any time wondering about the kind of place where Present Mic would live -and he hadn’t- he would have guessed that it would be some incredible modern apartment with walls of brushed steel, gold albums and guitars on the wall for art, and maybe a private recording studio in there somewhere. 

People on the internet who knew about Eraserhead also speculated extensively about where and what conditions he lived in, but their guesses did not often include anywhere indoors.

The truth was somewhere in the middle; a reasonably sized family house in the same district as UA with a tall brick privacy wall. There was a little yard too; about as much as anyone could afford in a Japanese metropolitan area without being a millionaire. At least Izuku had a little bit of green to look forward to. He probably wouldn’t be allowed to run in the park again until his dad was out of the picture for good.

Neither Present Mic nor Eraserhead had a car, but they had a private driveway so All Might didn’t have to park his truck on the street. 

“Home sweet home.” Mic told Izuku. He’d been in an effervescent mood ever since they’d left the courthouse. “Your room is on the second floor. The house is disarmed right now so you can go on in. I’ll get your biometrics added to the security system as soon as we’ve got your things inside.”

The police hadn’t let Izuku take too much from the house; just his personal belongings and any old family heirlooms that he couldn’t risk his dad taking or wrecking. The apartment would be under police protection until it wasn’t considered a crime scene anymore, but the detective working his dad’s case didn’t even try to convince him that nothing would end up ‘disappearing.’ 

Everything Izuku had now fit into two rolling suitcases, a backpack, and three boxes. None of them were heavy, but Mic only let him have the box with his some of his collectibles and bedding in it. He was a narrow looking person, but able to lift both suitcases without appreciable effort.

Yagi-san was a reassuring presence at Izuku’s side as they followed Mic inside. He was a little sad that he wouldn’t be able to stay with his mentor, but at the same time he couldn’t even wrap his head around what that would even look like. All Might didn’t have any properties in Musutafu that anyone knew about. To the best of his knowledge the closest thing to a house that All Might owned was Might Tower in New York and Izuku’s poor little fanboy heart wouldn’t be able to take that. 

_This is only temporary anyway._ Izuku told himself. His mom would get access to her mail soon or her program director would be able to raise her on the satellite phone. Once that happened he knew she’d be on the first flight she could physically get to. It would be weeks, maybe even a month, but she would come for him.

Only, Izuku wasn’t sure that was a good thing because coming back to Japan would put her back into Hisashi’s sights and as an outed villain he didn’t have to avoid negative attention anymore. He’d tried to murder a bunch of school kids. There wasn’t any coming back from that and if he got to take a shot at his annoying ex wife then Izuku had no assurance that he wouldn’t say _no_.

Izuku was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Mic stop just inside his own entry way until he bumped his nose into the space between his new guardian’s shoulder blades.

There was someone in the living room ahead of them already; tall, lean, and wearing all black. Izuku’s stomach clenched until he realized the man had halted halfway through the process of angrily pulling on a familiar collar made of scarves. 

Eraserhead was looking a _lot_ better than he had the last time Izuku had seen him, albeit still _pissed off_. His face was a mottled quilt of bruises and his nose was in a splint, but his cheek was no longer caved in. Izuku didn’t know if he’d done that or if it had been a hospital healer, but he was glad the man hadn’t been permanently disfigured. He had a shiny red scar under his eye where his cheek bone had been broken, but that wasn’t the worst facial injury Izuku had ever seen on a hero. 

“Sho!” Mic squawked. “Did you break out of the hospital?”

 _“Hizashi.”_ Eraserhead’s tone sounded like death incarnate. “Why were you ignoring my calls. _What the hell did you do.”_

Mic startled and set down the suitcases to get at the phone in his back pocket. “Shit, sorry. I forgot to turn it back on.” He flicked the screen on and Izuku could see a notification on the screen announcing twenty new text messages, twelve missed calls, and five unheard voicemails. “Oh _man…_ I can explain!”

At that point, Eraserhead noticed Izuku standing behind Mic and his expression went flat.

“Who,” He asked without breaking eye contact with Izuku, “...is that.”

Mic cleared his throat and stepped to one side, bringing Izuku forward. 

“Babe, this is Izuku. He needs a place to stay for a while. I thought, given the circumstances, that he could come live with us.”


	3. Part Three

There was a teenager in Shouta’s house.

Granted the kid looked like he was twelve at the most with enormous green eyes, a tousled mop of dark green curls, and a white tshirt that read ALL M across the chest. He held a box in front of him with ‘police evidence’ printed on the side and crossed out with a marker. It was open at the top with rolled up posters poking out and the top edge of what looked like a quilt.

He stared at the kid and the kid stared right back. The more he looked though the more convinced he became that he’d seen that face somewhere before. He just couldn’t place quite where. The kid wasn’t his student and Shouta was positive he wasn’t in any of the UA programs, which was the only place where he met people in that age bracket who weren’t the victims of violent crimes.

The weirdness only intensified when Yagi fucking Toshinori stuck his enormous head in through the door and asked, “Is there a problem?” in a mild tone that still managed to suggest there had better  _ not _ be a problem.

He’d gotten so used to thinking of the man as a not very talented junior instructor that he’d forgotten that All Might could also be absolutely terrifying when the spirit moved him. 

“Everything is fine. Shouta left the hospital AMA.” Hizashi called over his shoulder. “So introductions are getting moved up a little.”

Shouta pulled in the ends of his capture weapon and stepped back, suddenly feeling unsure. Had Hizashi actually found them a kid? That would explain the alarming text message he’d gotten before his husband dropped out of contact. If Hizashi had seen an opportunity then of course he was going to go for it with both hands and no second thoughts. 

That didn’t explain why the big blond nuisance was involved, but all things in due time.

“Give me one of those.” Shouta reached for one of the suitcases Hizashi had brought in with him only to have his husband pull it out of reach.

“No, go sit on the couch and come up with a compelling argument as to why I shouldn’t get All Might to take you back to the hospital.” Hizashi pointed at their beat up leather sofa for emphasis. Then his expression shifted. “... _ or _ you could go upstairs with Izuku and help him set up his room. Maybe get him settled? I just realized we don’t have enough of anything in the house to feed three people.”

“Fine.” Shouta agreed mostly to get out of grocery shopping, assuming Hizashi would even let him go. He hated going to the store. He used to live off lime flavor Calorie Mates and hadn’t seen any problem with it before moving in with Hizashi, who had different ideas about nutrition. “Do you know what the kid eats?”

Hizashi looked stricken. “Shit, no.” He cast a look at Izuku who was still hovering near the door. “Hey, little listener. I’ve got to run to the shops and get some dinner. Is there anything you don’t eat?”

The kid shook his head and then flinched. “Uh, my dad kept us vegetarian.” He ventured. “I’m not invested in it though, but I don’t really know if there is any kind of meat I don’t like. I don’t think I’ve had any outside summer camp curry.”

“We can start slow.” Hizashi promised, which would be easy since they didn’t eat a lot of meat either. They could afford it, but neither of them were very inspired cooks and hated to waste good ingredients. “Can you do fish or eggs?”

Izuku nodded and made Hizashi’s day in the process. 

“That’s great!” Hizashi gave him the full thumbs-up treatment. He paused and looked at All Might. “Do you want to stay for dinner? Make sure Izuku gets settled?”

All Might shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t. I have some appointments this evening and also a stack of grading I’ve had to put off. I’d be happy to drop you off somewhere.”

Izuku drooped at that, but rallied as soon as he sensed eyes on him. “T-thank you for helping, sir.” He let All Might settle one enormous hand on his head. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out.”

“So am I.” All Might ruffled the boy’s hair looking sad. “You have my number and I’ll work on getting your phone reconnected. In the meantime, I’m sure Yamada or Aizawa won’t mind passing messages. Contact me whenever you need to.”

That netted him a nod and a suspiciously damp sniffle. 

Shouta had to wonder if they’d just gotten custody of All Might’s secret love child or something. He’d put up with it if that were the case. He’d put up with a  _ lot _ if it got Hizashi the kid he’d wanted his entire adult life, even coparenting with a walking, talking spotlight.

It took Hizashi a little bit to get himself to go. He carried all Izuku’s tiny collection of belongings upstairs himself and spent another fifteen minutes or so trying to tease dietary preferences out of the kid before All Might gently herded him outside to a waiting truck.

Izuku had yet to move from his spot by the door, although Hizashi had gotten his box away from him. He was watching Shouta now with a look of wariness mixed with something else not as easily identified.

Shouta put up with it for a bit until he lost his patience. “Come on, I’ll give you a tour of the house and then you can get your bedroom set up.”

The kid had no response, but followed Shouta when he took off.

It wasn’t an extensive tour. The house had room, but most of the living space on the main floor flowed together in an open format. The basement and upper level were more broken up; bedrooms and the main bath upstairs, offices and home gym downstairs.

“You can use anything in the gym you want so long as you wipe it down after.” Shouta explained as he showed Izuku where the cleaning supplies were. “The only rules are not to lift without someone to spot you and no quirk use without supervision.” 

Izuku made a distressed little noise at that, but his expression actively discouraged questions so Shouta made a note to circle back to the topic once he’d had a chance to look over whatever paperwork had arrived with Izuku.

Shouta intended to show him the upstairs next, park him in his room, and then go get a handle on himself in another part of the house until Hizashi got back to be the emotionally available adult in the house except they didn’t make it there. Izuku stopped halfway through the living room just short of the stairs. Shouta had to stop and turn around to see what the hold up was.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” The kid asked. He didn’t seem  _ mad _ about it exactly, just apprehensive. Shouta wasn’t sure if that was better or worse than mad.

“Sorry, kid. I don’t.” He admitted, hoping this wasn’t someone he’d either saved or busted during his active duty hours in the past week or so. “Your face looks a little familiar, but I’ve had a head injury recently. My short term memory surrounding the incident is going to be a little patchy for a while.”

“I-I know.” The kid looked pained. “I was there.”

In that moment Shouta realized just where he’d seen those eyes before. The kid had been wearing a hood and a filtration mask covering the lower half of his face, but Shouta had gotten a good look at those huge green eyes before they’d rolled back into his skull and the kid had passed out, hitting the ground right beside him on the dusty, broken ground of the USJ central plaza.

He managed not to say any of the first three or four things that sprang to mind. “Ah.” He settled on a neutral reply at last.  _ “That’s _ where I know you from.”

* * *

Hizashi wasn’t too surprised to find his husband lurking in the entryway and ready to attack when he got home with a big canvas tote bag of dinner components. Sho propelled him right back outside and shut the door behind him so softly that Hizashi barely heard the latch engage.

“How the hell did you get us custody of the USJ kid?” Shouta’s irises were rimmed in red. Whether it was because he was having trouble with his quirk while in the grip of an emotion or if he was prepared to squash any volume slip on Hizashi’s part was not immediately clear.

“I was deposed in court and I happened to walk by while All Might and the kid’s emergency guardian were trying to get him released from police custody.” Hizashi tamped down his memory of their brief visit to the Musutafu juvenile detention center. They’d been keeping Izuku in with the non-violent offenders since he hadn’t been charged, but he still had to eat and exercise with the general population.

Up until that moment Hizashi had still been questioning his own sanity, but not after he’d seen and smelled the cold, windowless steel box Izuku had been living in. It had contained a bed, a sink, and a toilet in just enough space to stand up in. The air was heavy with the impossible combination of bleach and acrid sweat.

“The police wouldn’t release him, Sho, and he didn’t do anything wrong.” Hizashi wet his lips. “I couldn’t just leave him there being punished for doing the right thing. No one can get a hold of his mom either so he was stuck.”

Shouta exhaled sharply and, yeah, that had been pretty weak. Of course Sho hadn’t bought it.  _ “Hizashi.” _

“I know!” Hizashi dropped his tone after it spiralled upward. “I  _ know _ , all right. It’s just… we’ve got a real chance. I’m positive of it.”

“If he’s got family then they’ll take him away sooner or later.” Shouta took the canvas bag from him and set it down before caging Hizashi up against the tiny nook just under their eaves. “You’re going to get attached.”

“No, look, I’ve got it worked out!” Hizashi shook his head. “Izuku doesn’t have an extended family left aside from his mother and she’s a deep sea researcher in some underwater rift station where the employees can’t have dependants. She’s been passed over for custody before and it’s going to take a lot of work for her to get him back, but not if we make a private agreement to  _ share _ custody. She gets to keep her career and see her kid. We keep him during the school year and maybe half the breaks. Everybody goes home happy!”

_ “Hizashi.” _ Shouta had that look. Hizashi hated that look.

“Plan B is we pay her off.” He continued. “I have an emergency fund I am willing to cash out.”

Shouta closed his eyes and sighed. “You’re going to end up breaking your big dumb heart.”

“Oh, probably.” Hizashi petted his husband’s chest, glad that the fight seemed to be over. “I wasn’t counting on him being that precious.” He admitted. “He jumps like a bunny; hard to believe he’s in high school.”

“A bunny that nearly took a guy’s arm off.” Shouta huffed and backed up. “Fuck, I’m going to have to find out how he  _ did _ that. Wait… did you say that kid is in  _ high school?”  _ He looked appalled. “I thought he was a middle schooler!”

“I know, right?” Hizashi picked up the groceries and let himself back into the house. “He’s a first-year at Manaan Prep.”

Izuku wasn’t in the living room, but someone had the lights on upstairs and Hizashi could hear someone moving around. He was probably unpacking.

He’d been waiting years to hear the sounds of a third person in the house and it was every bit as sweet as he’d hoped.

* * *

Waking up in a strange place wasn’t Izuku’s favorite, but Mic and Aizawa’s house was a big step up from where he’d been waking up recently.

His new room was a little bigger than the old one and had a floor-to-ceiling window that looked out onto the variegated rooftops of his new guardians’ sloping neighborhood. There was even a little sliver of beach and open water visible in the far distance. Izuku sat on his bed watching the night sky lighten for a while until he couldn’t sit still any longer.

No one else was around as he made his way downstairs, but he could hear snoring coming from the master bedroom. 

A big digital clock in the kitchen read 04:00 in bright red numbers. Ugh, that was just too early but Izuku was too awake to try and go back to sleep.

Dad wasn’t around to make him train anymore, but his body felt itchy and restless so maybe he was just stuck with the habit now. A little run would help calm him down anyway. Then he could get some breakfast and see if his phone was back in order. Mic had set him up with the wifi password so at minimum he’d be able to check his email and send his mom an update.

He ended up doing weights and some kata in addition to running. There wasn’t anything in the gym that he could easily use to practice his other skills, but he could work that out later. The more he thought about it the more he realized that he’d  _ have _ to keep up practice on his own. Dad’s temper wasn’t a storm he had the luxury of waiting out anymore. The next time Izuku saw his father he’d probably be fighting for his life.

_ Not sure what I’m going to do about saber practice. _ He thought as he let the treadmill kick him off. Mic and Aizawa were both skilled fighters, but they relied on their quirks or support items. In fact there weren’t many heroes who even used swords. Heroes preferred non-lethal weapons. 

Even if someone caught him, could a prison even hold his father? 

Ugh. There was just so much he had to figure out. Time for breakfast.

Izuku started to leave the gym, but ended up walking straight into Aizawa who had taken up a spot just inside the door. Izuku had been so deep in his own head that he hadn’t even noticed. That was  _ bad _ . He couldn’t afford that kind of inattention.

Aizawa was wearing his Eraserhead costume, but Izuku couldn’t tell if he was going out or just getting back in. Hopefully neither or Mic was going to be upset.

“Oh, uh, sorry…!” Izuku stumbled back and was glad that he hadn’t been working on any of his telekinesis drills. “Were you going to use the gym? I wiped down all the equipment.”

“I saw.” Aizawa looked him over. “That’s an interesting routine.”

Izuku felt like he was about to step into a trap. “Thanks?”

“Do you do that every morning?” 

Definitely a trap.

“More or less. I usually run more and have some other exercises, but it’s been a weird week so I skipped a bunch.” 

Weirdly, Aizawa just nodded. He didn’t seem to emote all that much so Izuku thought that maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised. Mic had mentioned they were both instructors at UA, but he hadn’t said what either of them taught. UA academics were legendarily weird so it could have been anything. 

“Cut yourself some slack while you get settled in.” Aizawa nodded at the stairs. “Go clean up and get breakfast for now. Your school’s further away and we’ll need to get in early so I can talk to your school about the new situation and still make it to my own classes on time.”

“You’re coming with me?” Izuku hadn’t been expecting that. In retrospect, that was dumb. He was on a supervillain’s shit list. Worse, it was his  _ dad _ . Of course he’d need someone to walk him to class. Maybe he should have been more surprised that they were even letting him go.

“It’ll be me or Zashi for now.” Aizawa pointed at the stairs. “We’ll talk more later. Go eat.”

* * *

Shouta watched the kid take off with a mumbled “Yes, sir.” and waited until he was sure Midoriya was out of earshot before dragging a hand through his hair and sighing. 

He’d known the kid was going to be work, but he hadn’t been ready for it to start so soon. Or  _ so early _ . 

The motion alarm woke him when the kid had gotten up and Shouta had been prepared to foil an escape attempt, which was the only reason he could possibly fathom why anyone would  _ want _ to be awake at four in the fucking morning. Hizashi had taken his hearing aids out before bed and got to sleep through it all.

Midoriya surprised him by dragging himself downstairs to the gym with reluctance written in every line of his small body. Shouta could empathize with that, but he didn’t understand why the kid didn’t just _ go back to bed.  _

He was tempted to do that himself when he saw the kid start doing some basic stretches and realized Midoriya really was just getting in a morning workout. Unfortunately for Shouta, he was curious by that point and hung back to watch what turned out to be a pretty gruelling conditioning session; the whole thing had taken two straight hours --and the kid said that was a light day for him in the tone of someone who thought they were being perfectly reasonable. Sheesh.

Something was going to have to change. Shouta believed in the pursuit of excellence, but that wasn’t an appropriate workout for anyone who wasn’t a professional athlete in training for an event and even then  _ never _ for a teenager. 

It had been easy to miss before, considering all the layers he wore, but Midoriya looked like he was close to peak condition for his age and weight class. Shouta had top tier students in the Heroics program who weren’t that fit. That didn’t happen overnight and suggested that Midoriya’s father had been grooming him for villainy a lot longer than anyone had supposed.

The smell of toast greeted Shouta at the top of the stairs. Midoriya looked up from what he was doing at the stove (frying eggs) and gave him a hesitant little wave.

“Do you want anything?” He asked. “Or Mic?”

“Nothing for me and whatever you’re making for yourself is fine for Zashi.” Shouta watched him work for a while without any real sign of hesitancy or nerves. He was used to fending for himself then. If anything seemed to bother him it was the fact that he had an audience.

Maybe it was just nerves and things would settle down once Midorya got comfortable with them, but Shouta wasn’t so sure. 

Food smells did what the silent alarm couldn’t and lured Hizashi out of the bedroom in a pair of pajama pants with his hair down around his face and the big pair of tinted grandpa glasses he wore around the house perched on top of his head. He padded down the stairs and blinked at Shouta, clearly confused by the aroma of edible food being made in their house by someone other than himself. 

_ Who’s in the kitchen?  _ He signed.

_ You picked out a morning person.  _ Shouta signed back.  _ He ran six miles on the treadmill too.  _

_ Oh no, your natural enemy. _ Hizashi grinned and rounded the corner. “Hey, is that toast I smell?” He called out. 

“Yeah, it looked like you guys eat western breakfasts?” Izuku didn’t duck when Hizashi ruffled his hair and Shouta had to forgive him for the early morning when he saw how happy it made Hizashi. 

“It’s easy and neither of us are great cooks.” Hizashi got into the pantry and threw Shouta a Calorie Mate. “There’s some sausages in the fridge too. Do you want to try one?”

Shouta evacuated while he still could. With Hizashi occupied downstairs, he had an opportunity to get his class material together and stashed in a bag for later. Chiyo wanted him off duty for the rest of the week, but none of the substitute agencies in town would take Nedzu’s calls any more so no one would send him home if he made it all the way onto campus.

Hizashi and Midoriya were at the table by the time Shouta made it back downstairs. They’d made the sausages, but Midoriya didn’t seem sold on it going by the fact that he’d taken one bite out of his and left the rest. He was more absorbed in his phone, which was the most teenager-like behavior he’d exhibited yet and seeing it came as an honest relief.

Shouta knew how to turn teenagers into heroes. He didn’t know how to teach them to be children.

“Coffee’s ready.” Hizashi said by way of a greeting and gestured at a mug already filled, doctored with cream, and gently steaming in front of Shouta’s usual spot at the table. 

“Thanks.” He took a welcome sip as he slid into his chair. He paused and checked the clock then looked at Midoriya. “Kid, you should probably get in the shower soon if you’re done eating. We’ve still got to talk to your teachers.”

Midoriya looked up from his phone, eyes blank. He passed his phone over to Hizashi with the screen unlocked. 

Hizashi accepted it with a frown, flipped his glasses back down over his eyes, and read whatever Midoriya had passed him. His expression darkened as his gaze flicked down. “You have  _ got _ to be kidding me.” He hissed and sprang up from the table. “Where is my phone? I need to call somebody about this.”

“It’s on the coffee table.” Shouta used his scarves to get Midoriya’s phone away from Hizashi before his husband could stomp off with it. “Do you mind if I read this too?” He asked Midoriya, but the kid was staring into the middle distance and muttering to himself. That would have to do for permission.

The phone was open on an official looking email from the central office of Manaan College Preparatory High School - Aldera Campus. Shouta scanned it and let his eyes linger on the key phrases;  _ consecutive unexcused absences… falsified quirk registration… association with a known villain…  _ and, the kicker: ... _ as of this notice, you are no longer considered a student of Manaan Preparatory Academy _ .

Manaan had heard about the USJ somehow and they’d washed their hands of the situation.

Hizashi wandered back into the kitchen. He looked madder than Shouta could remember ever seeing him while off duty. “...is part of an ongoing investigation. He was in protective custody and the lead detective alerted you to the situation so his absences  _ would _ be excused not so you could  _ build a case _ against him.” 

He paused as the other person spoke and his cheeks puffed up with indignation at whatever it was they had to say. 

“Izuku isn’t liable for that. Quirk registration was the responsibility of his former guardian and obviously we’ll be having him re-evaluated… no.  _ No, _ that is discrimination. You  _ know _ that is discrimination and I don’t care if it’s part of your school’s code of conduct. It’s illegal.” His jaw dropped in shocked outrage and then snapped shut as his cheeks went bright red. “If that’s the case then I hope you enjoy talking to lawyers because you’ll be hearing from mine.”

Midoriya made a noise; a high, thin wheeze that had Shouta out of his chair and shoving the boy’s head between his knees before he could really think about what he was doing.

“Try and breathe, kid.” He tried to remember the doctrine for treating a panic attack in the field. He didn’t often encounter victims who stuck around long enough to need calming. Midoriya’s breathing sounded shakey, but still regular. His eyes had been glassy though. Was he trying to pass out? Shouta remembered the files saying something about him having a couple episodes recently. They’d both been attributed to quirk exhaustion, but what if the medics had been wrong?

“Get him on the floor and his calves on the chair so they’re above his head.” Hizashi tossed his phone at the table.

“I-I’m okay!” Midoriya batted at their hands. “I’ve got it.”

“Okay. We’re going to give you a little space now, but if you feel dizzy then you need to try and let us know even if you don’t feel like you can talk.” Hizashi put out an arm and nudged Shouta back.

“I’m okay.” The kid insisted and he did sound better. “I just… I’m okay now. It was just upsetting.” He scrubbed at his face. Shouta was pretty sure he saw tears through Midoriya’s fingers. “I d-don’t know what I’m going to tell m-m-mom. She was r-really proud that I got in.”

“We’ll get you into another school.” Hizashi promised. “An even better school. It’ll be okay. We will  _ make _ it okay.”

Could they though? Shouta wasn’t so sure. This was just the first bump they’d hit as a ...a family and there was sure to be more on the way.

_ Focus on the immediate problem. _ He told himself. Midoriya  _ had _ to be in school. It was one of the conditions placed on his release. He wasn’t on probation, but Shouta didn’t doubt there’d be at least one spot check by whatever social worker ended up with his case. If he wasn’t in school then the reasons for keeping him out of police custody were less compelling. Shouta and Hizashi could homeschool Midoriya in the absolute worst case scenario, but they couldn’t leave him unattended at home. 

He rocked back on his heels and let himself chew over the idea.

The dependants of UA faculty had automatic admission to the gen ed program. Midoriya wasn’t their adopted child, but Nedzu might make an exception for a foster situation. He wasn’t familiar with Manaan as a school, but if it was a college prep institution then Midoriya  _ should _ be able to keep up with the kids at UA. That email had made them look pretty high in the instep even if it was just by civilian standards. If he couldn’t then they could get him whatever tutoring he needed to get up to speed.

“Zashi, I’m going to make a call.” He went largely ignored. Hizashi and Midoriya were talking in quiet voices and handling the emotional fallout of the situation. Good.

Shouta would deal with the practical fallout.

* * *

Izuku ended up on the couch with a damp washcloth over his eyes. Mic was still hovering a bit, but he was also texting furiously with someone as he leaned against the back and paused every once and a while to see if Izuku was still breathing.

If this was a normal level of parental concern then he finally understood why Kacchan always acted like a wet cat whenever his mom was feeling protective. 

“Hey, kiddo.” Hizashi stowed his phone. “I think we need to talk to somebody about these fainting spells.”

Izuku pulled the cloth off his eyes. “What about them?”

“You’ve been under a lot of stress so I know these aren’t normal circumstances, but I’m worried. Have you had any other incidents before this?”

“Not really. I did when I was really little and I got too upset or scared, but my mom gets them too sometimes so maybe it runs in the family.” Izuku could remember some terrifying events from when he was little. At some point before the divorce, Hisashi had figured out how to trigger his wife into a swoon and wasn’t afraid to use that knowledge to his advantage. “All but one of the times I’ve blacked out recently has been because I got too wound up and people started crowding me. I’m… not  _ really _ okay, but I don’t think I’m sick.”

Mic didn’t seem convinced. “Well, you’re going to have to come into work with us today. If it’s okay with you then I’d like to have our school nurse look you over. She’s been wanting to meet you anyway. If you’ve got a healing quirk then you couldn’t ask for a better instructor.”

“But I…” Izuku stopped himself from saying  _ ‘I don’t have a quirk.’ _ He’d healed Aizawa in front of people. As far as the world was concerned, he had a quirk. No one was going to believe him if he suddenly pretended he didn’t. “I guess it can’t hurt.”

“That’s the spirit!” Mic circled around the couch and held out a hand to help Izuku up. “I want you to try and get up. Take it slowly, but if you still feel okay afterwards then you need to hop in the shower while I get ready. Chiyo wants to see you and Shouta before classes start too.”

Getting up wasn’t an issue. The bad moment was over and Izuku was able to get himself ready for… well, not school, but the day at least. In retrospect he was glad he’d had the early morning to himself. He only wished he’d spent more time meditating. He just hadn’t wanted to open himself up to contact from his dad just yet.

He wasn’t sure what to bring beyond his phone and himself so he packed his usual school supplies with the exception of his old books from Manaan. He didn’t think about food until almost the last minute and darted downstairs, hoping his new guardians had something he could use for a lunch box.

Mic and Aizawa came back downstairs just as Izuku finished up.

He’d found some old bento boxes collecting dust in the back of one of the cupboards and Mic’s freezer was a cornucopia of frozen ready-to-eat meal components. He hadn’t had time to make any rice, but the important part was that nobody was going hungry. He’d even made one for Aizawa, although he suspected it would be ignored in favor of another Calorie Mate. It didn’t seem right leaving him out though. Izuku knew that feeling and it sucked. 

Mic didn’t bother trying to hide his reaction to getting a semi-homemade lunch box. He was over the moon about it and Izuku was starting to realize that was just what the man was like all day, every day; his emotions were just out there for public consumption and he didn’t care. Izuku would never have to guess at what Mic was feeling and that was kind of nice. It was different, certainly.

Aizawa, though, caught him as they started out the door. He didn’t look or feel mad, just… concerned. Aizawa had been consistently concerned since they’d met and that too seemed to be his baseline. It wasn’t a condescending type of worry, but Aizawa just seemed to be high alert at all times. Maybe that was why he looked so tired if he was  _ always _ ready to head off whatever bad thing was going to happen next. “You don’t have to earn your keep here. Thank you for this...” he held up his bento, “...but it’s our job to take care of you.”

“I’m used to taking care of myself.” Izuku winced because that had sounded ungrateful even to him. So he tried again. “It’s going to take some getting used to?”

That seemed to be the right answer because Aizawa switched his focus to getting Mic out the door with all his stuff.

They took the train to UA, which was an experience by itself. People gawked openly even though Mic said they often took that same train. Students in gray and green started to fill the car as they got closer to the UA campus. Some of them greeted Mic. Most ignored Aizawa or watched him warily. Izuku didn’t get that much attention beside one or two of the UA students looking his uniform over with curiosity. Manaan was in the opposite direction so they likely hadn’t seen a uniform like his before. 

UA itself towered over them as they got off at the school’s dedicated rail station. Izuku’s heart started to pound again. He’d spent most of his formative years dreaming of walking through those gates, but not like this. 

“Everything good?” Mic asked him quietly.

Izuku just confused himself by trying to nod and shake his head at the same time. 

He didn’t see anybody he recognized, but they didn’t go in the front entrance. The teachers had multiple entrances depending on how they got to work. Mic and Aizawa used a ground level side entrance near a small parking lot. Snipe pulled up on a lowrider as they went in.

“Morning, partners.” He tipped his hat as they passed. “Got a sidekick today, I see.” Snipe’s tone was so friendly that Izuku knew he hadn’t been recognized.

“Midoriya will be auditing classes with Mic or I for the time being.” Aizawa placed a hand on Izuku’s back, encouraging him to go faster. 

“Well, congratulations!” Snipe clapped Mic on the back and staggered him a little. He seemed to know better than to try with Aizawa. “I know y’all have been trying for a while. I’m glad something finally worked out.”

Oh, right. Izuku remembered Mic saying they’d been trying for a foster adoption before. That must be what Snipe thought had happened.

“We’ll talk more later,” was all Aizawa said.

The school infirmary was surprisingly mundane looking except for the fact that the school nurse was actually Recovery Girl: one of the few healers to ever go into frontline heroics. She was well into her nineties if Izuku remembered right, but still terrifying. 

Aizawa was bullied into enough bandages to turn him into a mummy, but he seemed sanguine about it and even seemed a little… anticipatory? He was looking forward to something, anyway. Izuku suspected it was the opportunity to scare his students.

“All right, scoot.” Recovery Girl made shooing motions at both Izuku’s guardians. “Nedzu wants him after we’re done. I’ll let you know when we’re done here.”

Mic wasn’t happy about that, but Aizawa dragged him off. Recovery Girl waited until they were gone and then checked a camera feed on her computer to make sure they really had left. “Well, I’m sorry, sonny boy. I told them a little fib. The Principal wants to see you first, but Eraserhead would have insisted on staying if he’d known that and Nedzu says he has some questions that you might not be comfortable answering in front of your guardians.”

That wasn’t ominous or anything.

“I would like to see a demonstration of your quirk at some point, but I don’t think that would be wise now. I know the signs of quirk exhaustion and you look fine to me, but I don’t care to push your limits. Try not to heal anyone for another week or so just in case.” Recover Girl hopped down out of her chair. “It’s very rare for a healer to be able to fuel healing themselves. Usually we’re dependent on the patient’s own energy reserves. Your way is dangerous for you, yes, but safer when treating someone whose condition is already borderline.”

“M-my grandmother could do something similar.” Izuku chose his words with care. She’d come to Force training late in life, but his grandmother had already been a doctor for years when she’d met her eventual husband. That background had informed a lot of what she eventually did with her Force abilities. “Right now what I do is like a one-to-one ratio of energy expended to damage healed. Obaa-san could do more with less, but she said it took a lot of practice.”

“Most worthwhile things do.” She agreed. “Well, if you keep hanging around this place then I can offer you all the practice your heart can take. Come this way. Nedzu has been all but climbing the walls this morning.”

Principal Nedzu’s office was in the exact middle of UA’s odd main building. Izuku had known going in that Nedzu was not actually a human with a morphological quirk, but after meeting the man he had trouble identifying what he could be instead; some kind of mammal for sure, but beyond that Izuku couldn’t tell.

He was short with sleek white fur and stubby paws. His eyes were small and bright shiny black. He walked upright, but Izuku got the impression he could get around on all four just fine. 

“Midoriya Izuku! We meet at last.” Nedzu thanked Recovery Girl and guided Izuku into his office, shutting the door behind them. He showed him a chair and offered tea, one of which Izuku accepted and the other he declined.

Nedzu’s emotions weren’t quite what Izuku was accustomed to. Reading other people in the Force was more of an art of empathy than anything else. They thought in pictures and feelings, which Izuku had learned to interpret over time even though other people’s feelings didn’t always map to his own experiences. Nedzu was like that only more so and faster with additional sense memories threaded through like smell and… whiskers, maybe?

He didn’t feel afraid, but he was on high alert. The alertness wasn’t stressful, however. If anything, Nedzu seemed relaxed and comfortable in his space. It was odd to Izuku, but maybe that too was Nedzu’s normal. 

“I’ll get straight to the point.” Nedzu hopped up into his chair, which automatically adjusted him to Izuku’s eye level. “Aizawa-kun called me this morning to tell me about your school situation with Manaan Prep.”

Oh.

Izuku’s shoulders turtled up with shame.

“I’m very sorry to hear about what happened. You deserved better treatment in a time of crisis.” Nedzu opened a laptop and a loaded file folder on his desk. “Not many people know about this, but UA faculty can enroll their dependents in the Gen Ed course without an entrance exam. We usually have a bit more warning than this, but fortunately I had already been looking into your background before this morning. I had already requested a copy of your transcripts from Manaan and after reviewing them I don’t think you’ll have much trouble transitioning the course load here. You will be slightly ahead in mathematics, but a bit behind in English and Japanese literature.”

What.

“ _ What. _ ” Izuku croaked. “You want to let me in to UA? But I...”

“... defended two of my students at great personal risk and saved the life of a dear friend of mine?” Nedzu’s black eyes gleamed. “Oh, yes. In all honesty, I had plans to poach you from Manaan anyway if only so Chiyo-san would have a chance to work with you. It’s a bad habit of mine. I can’t stand to see good talent working for other people.” He spread his paws in a little ‘what can you do?’ gesture. “If you want a slot in the Gen Ed program then it’s yours, no questions asked.” He paused for effect. “ _...if _ that is what you want.”

It wasn’t what he wanted, but neither was Manaan. It had just been the best of what he could have.

Izuku forced himself to stay quiet, not trusting his voice.

“Thanks to my quirk, I have an excellent memory.” Nedzu continued, seemingly satisfied with Izuku’s frozen silence. “When I first heard your name I thought it sounded familiar. That is the other reason I chose to look into your background. Imagine my surprise when I found an application for this year’s entrance exam for the Heroics program with your name on it. We don’t have many Quirkless applicants even though we do accept anyone who can pass our exam. Now, I know that you didn’t actually take the exam and that too is very rare. UA is not an institution people apply to carelessly. Even our exam seats have limited availability. Then it occurred to me that Manaan Prep is the highest ranked school in this region that does not also offer a hero course. Given what happened, I feel confident in guessing that your father did not approve of your professional aspirations.”

“N-no.” Izuku swallowed. That had been a bad fight when Hisashi had intercepted Izuku’s exam ticket in the mail. It had been the first time when he’d thought his dad might  _ actually _ hurt him; not just land a few heavy blows during practice and leave the marks to heal naturally.

“I will be blunt then.” Nedzu steepled his paw pads before him. “There are two slots in the hero classes that will be coming open soon. I can’t give you preference because it is a tradition among the Gen Ed students that anyone who excels at their studies there has a chance of being moved up -especially if their quirk put them at a disadvantage in the entrance exam- and there are several students I know of who plan on doing so.”

“What do I need to do?”

Nedzu smiled. “I can give you three weeks to prepare.” He said. “I will assign you a self-study course to help bring you in line academically with your peers. Given your scores on the mock exams, I don’t expect you to struggle much. You’ll come to campus with your guardians and do your work in the staff room in order to satisfy the terms of your release. I believe that you will be cleared of suspicion within that time frame, freeing you up to use the more public facilities here such as the gymnasiums, training grounds, and library. I’m afraid you will not be permitted to participate in the Sports Festival this year. I’m not comfortable with broadcasting your location on national television when you’re still a person of interest to a prominent villain. Instead, there will be an additional event after the festival for you and any other gen ed students who distinguish themselves in the Festival.”

“Can I ask what kind of event?” Izuku’s brain was kicking into overdrive.

“You may not, but good try.” Nedzu smiled. “If you’re looking for advice, then I would make good use of the resources available to you at home. Eraserhead and Present Mic are excellent teachers. Recovery Girl will also be a valuable mentor for you.”

Right. Everyone still thought he was a healer.

“What… what if I’m  _ not _ cleared by then?” Izuku had to ask. It was the biggest stumbling block in front of him.

“You will be.” Nedzu was still smiling, but something about the shift in his mood chilled Izuku’s bones. “I would not have let you set foot on my campus if there were any doubt about your innocence.”

Izuku dropped his gaze and wrangled with the churning feelings of shame and gratitude in him. “I only ever wanted to be a hero.” He confessed. “Since I was a kid that was what I wanted most.”

“Well, I’m pleased to offer you an opportunity to start your career here at UA.” Nedzu got off his chair and walked across his desk to pat Izuku’s bowed head. “...but, in all sincerity, please do tell Yamada and Aizawa about your aspirations. The competition here is cut throat and your quirk will put you at a disadvantage. I want you as a student, but if it comes to a choice between settling for Gen Ed here or pursuing heroics elsewhere then I hope you will choose to put your dream first. Your guardians are well connected in the hero community. They can create whatever opportunity you need.”

Someone chose that moment to kick Nedzu’s door open.

“Ah, Eraserhead is here to collect you. Right on time!” Nedzu caught Izuku’s eye with a wink. “I sent him a message informing him of the terms of your admission.”

Izuku gaped at him. “...b-but you JUST said I should…!”

“I do say things.” Nedzu agreed. “I also like to hedge my bets. Have a good afternoon, Midoriya-kun. I’ll be in touch regarding those self-study plans. Think about what we discussed.”

Aizawa got Izuku by the back of the shirt. He put Izuku behind him and leveled a finger in front of Nedzu’s snout. “You do  _ not _ meet with my kid unless Hizashi or I are present.” He growled. “I am not tolerating any of your bullshit mind games right now, Nedzu.”

“I will absolutely respect that boundary now that you’ve set it.” Nedzu’s eyes twinkled with unsuppressed merriment, although his tone was perfectly contrite. 

Aizawa hauled Izuku into the corridor and it was so, so different then the way his dad had manhandled him. He had never realized there could be context in that kind of contact, but he wasn’t scared. That was the big thing. Aizawa was shoving him around to get him  _ away _ from a perceived threat. 

They didn’t slow down until they were on a totally different floor and Aizawa seemed to realize he’d been dragging Izuku by his clothes. He stopped in the middle of the hall and shoved his hair out of his eyes.

“The next time Nedzu tries to get you alone I expect you to come looking for me.” He said gruffly. “Nedzu is a good person, but he plays long games with people and doesn’t always remember that his ends cannot justify his means.”

“He didn’t say anything mean.” Izuku made himself not flinch at the look Aizawa gave him. “He  _ didn’t _ .”

“It’ll be a couple of days before any of us figure out what he was up to. You’ll understand then.” Aizawa jerked a thumb towards the intersection ahead of them. “You’re coming with me to the staff room. Midnight has my first period for the rest of the hour and she’s welcome to them. Zashi has his last class at two and then we’re going to make a break for it.”

Izuku didn’t want to fight so he followed in silence. He had plenty to mull over anyway.

The staff room was pretty similar to what he remembered from middle school; several banks of desks pushed together so the teachers worked side by side and facing each other. He even recognized some of the faculty members present; Ectoplasm, Power Loader, and Snipe. 

“Hello again, partner.” Snipe’s greeting wasn’t as enthusiastic as it had been earlier so someone must have read him in on Izuku’s situation. “Sorry I didn’t recognize you earlier.”

“It’s, um, okay.” Izuku scratched the back of his head. “That was a really weird day and I had a mask.”

“That’s fair.” Snipe sighed. “You all right? I heard some of what happened in the Mountain zone. Ain’t easy to tell your pa ‘no’ like that.”

“I…” That wasn’t really a thought he wanted to confront at the moment. It was okay to have a bad moment in the privacy of Aizawa and Mic’s living room, but this morning had taught him that he was going to have to be careful. Even in the safety of the house he sometimes caught the phantom scent of burnt meat. He didn’t even want to contemplate having an episode out in the open, even in the relative quiet of the staff room. “I’m not really okay talking about… that. Maybe later.”

Aizawa walked up behind Snipe and brought the spine of a grade book down on his head. There was a loud thunk noise as it encountered some kind of armored shell underneath his hat. “What part of ‘do not discuss the USJ incident’ was unclear, Snipe?” He asked in a deceptively bland tone.

“Fine, fine.” Snipe held up one hand for an abbreviated bow. “Sorry, kid. Wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s ok.” Izuku murmured, looking at the floor.

Aizawa got him set up with an empty desk and access to the school wifi. He spent some time not thinking by catching up on HeroNet and getting into some fights in the comments section. Once he felt more like himself, he started looking up pro hero healers to give himself an idea of what options he had available to him.

Most of them were support heroes and some had clearly only gotten their pro license in order to use their quirks outside of a hospital setting. They often worked as part of a team too so they never showed up in the annual rankings either. If they got merch then they were usually in the background of a group shot or worse; creepy medical fetish porn. No thank you. 

He didn’t think he’d be good at that; hanging back in a fight to boost up the front line fighters. Plus Force healing was incredibly dangerous. What he’d done for Aizawa had been a calculated risk and while it had paid off, Izuku still only had the bare minimum of instruction in the non-combative arts from his dad and what he’d learned from Obaasan before her mind started slipping away. Could you start a hero career on such a flimsy foundation?

For one brief moment, Izuku considered just… showing people what he could do.

The world was so different than it had been when his ancestors first came to Japan. There hadn’t been quirks then. Technology hadn’t been nearly so advanced either. Telekinesis and laser swords didn’t seem so weird in a society where people breathed fire and had functional space flight.

Guilt swept over him a minute later.

No. It wasn’t the same and he knew it. His dad had always chafed against the restrictions Grandpa had placed on the family, but that didn’t mean Grandpa was wrong. They probably didn’t have to worry about evil cultists anymore, but Izuku wanted to be a hero and live his life freely. He didn’t know if that could happen if the wrong people found out non-quirk superpowers were real. Almost all the first generation of quirk users had spent the majority of their lives in a lab. Would Izuku be treated any differently?


	4. Part Four

Izuku was asleep with his head on an open desk when Hizashi finally got free of his classes. Someone had put a jacket over his shoulders and it was too cute for him  _ not _ to take a picture. 

Unfortunately, he forgot to mute his phone so the camera shutter noise woke his target up.

“Mic?” He scrubbed at his eyes, looking unbearably cute. Hizashi snapped another photo while he could.

“It’s me.” Hizashi agreed. “Eraserhead is going to meet us at home. Two of the hero students got into a fight so he got stuck overseeing detention.”

“Anybody I know?” Izuku yawned, stretched, and popped his shoulders.

“I don’t think so.” 

Izuku and Bakugo knew each other, but beyond that Hizashi doubted he knew anyone else in the program. Hopefully, anyway. Monoma-kun was a naturally talented boy, but he was also a total asshole. He had some kind of superiority complex that had been exacerbated by getting placed in Class 1-A. There’d already been some minor incidents involving him and students from the other programs, but he’d finally worn through his classmates’ patience and one of them had decided to throw down. It was a shame they both had to get in trouble. Kirishima-kun was usually a pretty chill kid. 

“Let’s head home. I want to hear about your meeting with Nedzu.”

“Kay.” 

Izuku seemed subdued as he collected his things, which wasn’t what Hizashi had expected after Sho had told him Nedzu had given him a conditional acceptance to the top school in Japan.

Shouta had been livid when they’d touched base during a passing period, but hadn’t been able to share much. That probably meant Nedzu had turned Izuku’s acceptance into a game. Shouta didn’t like being manipulated at the best of times and he  _ definitely _ would not like anyone messing with his new and vulnerable dependant. Hizashi didn’t regret taking Izuku in, but things at home were unsettled so Sho’s tolerance for Nedzu being Nedzu would have been at the absolute nadir.

They didn’t talk right away and instead rode the train in silence. Hizashi wasn’t a quiet person, but this wasn’t an uncomfortable quiet. They stopped at the corner store for dinner supplies and that got Izuku out of turtle-mode. He had  _ opinions _ about food and it was nice not to be the only one for once.

_ We’re going to have to set some chore boundaries though. _ Hizashi noted. He would not have a teenager taking over cooking for the whole house. Self-sufficiency was great and all, but there was already one control freak in the house. Hizashi loved him, but he did not need two Shoutas.

“You ready to talk about this morning?” Hizashi asked as they turned onto the road home.

Izuku glanced at him. “We can.” He looked away. “I think Aizawa is angry with me though.”

“I seriously doubt that.” Hizashi could see Sho being mad at  _ Nedzu _ . Whether Izuku knew the difference between someone being mad at him and mad for him was the more relevant question. “Why do you think so?”

“Principal Nedzu had Recovery Girl bring me up to talk to him without either of you around. Nedzu sent him a message part way through. He was  _ really _ angry when he showed up in the principal’s office and for the rest of the day.”

Ouch. Actually Hizashi wasn’t super thrilled to hear that either, but he probably wouldn’t have spent the whole day stomping around over it. Shouta was more upset about the Manaan thing than he’d let on.

“That would do it.” He sighed. “Although I can tell you for  _ sure _ now that he’s not mad at you. It’s just a really bad day for this to have happened.”

Izuku looked skeptical.

“No, really. Here’s the thing…” Hizashi chose his words with care. “You probably can’t tell if Shouta likes you or not. Right?”

“I guess he does.” Izuku didn’t sound very convinced and Hizashi’s heart went out to him. He’d been there.

“I couldn’t either when we first met.” Hizashi laughed at the look Izuku gave him for that. “No, really. He’s hard to read unless you’ve known him as long as I have. I know I get attached to people pretty easily. Sho would never admit it, but he’s twice as bad and he does not like feeling out of control. At all.”

Not to mention vulnerable teenagers who didn’t fit the usual ‘Hero’ mold were Shouta’s kryptonite.

“I got that second part.” Izuku let them into the house and put his grocery bag on the counter while Hizashi locked up behind them. “I don’t know about the first.”

“You’ll be able to tell once you know the signs.” Hizashi chuckled. He’d already noted the symptoms. “Sho won’t treat you any differently face-to-face, but he’ll find excuses just to hang around and pretend it’s a total coincidence that he’s in the same room as you 70% of the time.”

That it a laugh out of the kid and he seemed to relax. “He was waiting outside the gym when I finished up this morning.” He admitted.

“Yup, sounds on brand. I was the one to start the conversation about having kids, but Sho has taken all the extra classes that the foster family program offers. You have to watch what he  _ does _ .” Hizashi began to unpack the groceries. They’d gone heavy on the raw ingredients because Izuku had some specific things he wanted to make for lunches for the week and didn’t really seem to comprehend the idea of going to the cafeteria with money his guardians would happily provide for him. Hizashi had indulged him this time because it would be hard for a teacher to accompany him there, but in general the kid needed another regular responsibility like he needed a hole in his head. “Have you heard of love languages?”

“It’s a book, right?”

“Right.” Hizashi paused to look around and make sure Shouta hadn’t snuck home somehow. “If Sho has a love language then it’s making sure nothing upsetting ever happens to his people. He’ll try and head off trouble before you even see it. Then he’ll pretend it didn’t happen so you can't thank him. Does that make sense?”

“I guess.” Izuku leaned back against the counter, tugging on his lower lip. “Principal Nedzu said he’d asked to enroll me in the gen ed program at UA.”

“Oh?” Staying calm and casual right then was the hardest thing Hizashi had ever done. Getting Izuku into UA would solve a  _ lot _ of their daytime security issues. “Are you in?”

“If I want.” was not the answer he’d expected and Izuku hurried to explain. “I get what you’re saying and I think I do understand. Aizawa was protecting me because of what my old school did.” 

He swallowed and seemed to struggle with that concept for a minute. Maybe it was hard. From what he’d seen of the kid so far, Izuku didn’t really seem to grasp the idea that the  _ adults _ should be the ones protecting and providing for him. 

“It’s just… I think Nedzu was trying to do the same thing?” He said at last. “He just came at it from a different angle.”

Hizashi stopped what he was doing and turned to look at Izuku, both eyebrows up high. Izuku blushed and turtled up a little again.

“He said he’d let me into the gen ed program no questions asked if that’s what I wanted, but he… wanted to make sure I had other options.” He explained. “I think he was worried that maybe Aizawa was taking the decision away from me. He wanted me to talk to you two about my career goals too.”

_ Shit.  _

They’d fucked up already. That was basic parenting, right? Getting your kid into the school and career  _ they _ picked. Hizashi hadn’t even thought to  _ ask _ . He’d just known where Izuku had been attending school before and made assumptions, which was  _ dumb _ . It was  _ so dumb _ . His father already had a documented history of controlling behavior. Why would he have let Izuku have any say in where he went to school? 

“I mean, that wasn’t really fair of him either. Everything happened so quickly. There wasn’t time to talk about it this morning and you guys wouldn’t have any way to know I applied to take the UA heroics exam. Nedzu only knew because he's been doing background research on me.”

A metaphorical record in Hizashi’s head scratched  _ hard _ . “You what?”

Izuku blinked. “I signed up to take the heroics exam at UA, but I wasn’t allowed to sit for it at the time because of, well...my dad. Nedzu found me on the exam roster and offered me a shot at a late start entrance after the Sports Festival. Um, assuming I can bring myself up to speed with the coursework through self study and I get cleared by the police before then.”

Hizashi dropped down on one of the barstools that lived at the end of the kitchen counter. “Hang on, I need a second.” He wheezed as a lot of things rearranged themselves inside his head.

He’d developed a kind of vision over the past 48 hours of what parenthood would look like if he got his way and they were able to keep Izuku. Most of it had involved working around his three careers to raise and support a relatively normal civilian type person. Izuku was such a nervous, gentle little guy that Hizashi had actually  _ forgotten _ about the fact that he had not just refused to commit a murder; he’d also been the one to remove his villainous father from play.

“That…” Hizashi got up and went to grasp Izuku by both shoulders and was only just able to keep his quirk on lock. “...is  _ FANTASTIC _ .”

...which was apparently not the reaction Izuku had been braced for. He blinked hard over and over again; eyes shimmering with an oncoming rush of tears.

“Y-you’re okay with it?”

“ _ Hell _ yes.” He pulled the kid ( _ His kid. _ This had to be some kind of sign.) into a hug. “I don’t know  _ anything _ about normal people. I was going to do my best, but this is something I can actually  _ help _ with. You’d make a  _ great _ hero.”

Slowly, very slowly, a pair of smaller hands crept up to return the embrace and Hizashi realized that Izuku had transitioned from almost crying to  _ definitely _ crying. He pressed his hot face into Hizashi’s shoulder and just shook.

Hizashi patted his back and let Izuku cry it out. He’d had a rough week, but this was the first real emotional release he’d seen out of the boy aside from a brief wobbly lip. Getting released from prison? No big deal. Adjusting to a whole new house and caretakers? Bring it on. Even getting kicked out of school had only resulted in some sniffles, aside from his near swoon.

It figured that at little basic encouragement was the thing that pushed him over the edge. Poor little guy. Hizashi wondered how much of his life had been spent swimming upstream.

“S-sorry.” Izuku choked out. “I’m not used to hearing people say that. All Might was the only one before you.”

A flicker of motion caught his eye and he turned his head in time to catch Sho stepping quickly around the corner leading downstairs.

_ I knew he’d find a way to beat us home.  _ Hizashi thought, but let him escape for the moment.

* * *

Another morning and another silent wake up call. 

This time Shouta stayed under the covers and just got his tablet off the nightstand. He turned off the alarm and brought up the security camera feed. Sure enough, it was Midoriya up for his 4 AM workout. Shouta put the tablet in its docking station and let the video stream play while he catnapped.

He’d been down in the gym for another hour before bed. Shouta hadn’t realized what was up until Midoriya staggered out around midnight. Exercise addiction was a common problem in prospective UA students. Shouta knew the warning signs and Midoriya was starting to ping his radar. 

Hizashi rolled over on him at some point and woke up enough to notice what was going on. He groped around the shelf that served them as a headboard until Shouta lost his patience, grabbed Hizashi’s hearing aids, and handed them over.

“He’s a little big for a baby monitor.” Hizashi commented as he put them in.

“I don’t trust him not to hurt himself.” Shouta grumbled. “...but he’s not going to trust me enough yet to tell me about his routine if I just ask.” 

“So you  _ do _ know you messed up yesterday.” Hizashi winced. “ _ We _ messed up.”

Shouta grunted and did not elaborate the multitude of ways he’d fucked up the day before; from making assumptions, to losing his temper, to getting physical with an abuse victim. He did not care to go into it, but he  _ was _ going to have to do better. Especially if, God have mercy, Midoriya ended up in the hero course as one of his twenty other headaches. 

They’d been parents for less than three days and it felt like Shouta had spent all of them running from fire to fire. He thought he’d been prepared to deal with a small human, but they were barely managing a reasonably self-sufficient teenager. Maybe it was a good thing none of their earlier matches had panned out.

Hizashi watched the stream for a bit with his pointy chin digging into Shouta’s shoulder. “Uh, Sho… hasn’t that been going on for a little long?”

“Hmmm…?” Shouta looked over to the stream. 

Midoriya had blindfolded himself for some reason and was standing on his head. Yoga? His form wasn’t too bad actually, but he was holding the pose for an awful long time. Thirty seconds passed. Then a minute. Then  _ two _ minutes. Shouta kicked off the blankets at the three minute mark when the only change Midoriya made was to switch to one hand.  _ No wonder _ the little bastard kept passing out if he was fucking with his blood pressure like that. 

The kid was still inverted when they made it to the bottom of the stairs. His breathing was deep and peaceful. There was low music playing in the background. For a moment Shouta wondered if he’d gotten upset over nothing then Midoriya cartwheeled upright and peeled off the blindfold.

“Good morning. Did I wake you up? Was the music too loud?”

“Not exactly.” Hizashi put a hand on Shouta’s shoulder. “We just meant to talk to you yesterday about something and forgot about it in all the excitement. Do you feel okay skipping the workout today?”

“Oh, I wasn’t…” Izuku caught himself about to lie to their faces and tried again, which Shouta appreciated. “Um, sure?” 

Hizashi nodded. “Good, great. Let’s go upstairs and have a little chat.”

Izuku looked about as enthusiastic as any kid headed into a ‘little chat’ with their parents, but didn’t make a fuss. He let Hizashi sit him down on the couch and make tea. Shouta took a spot on the armrest of the sofa.

“So, Izuku, first off; I want you to know that it’s good that you have a fitness routine and can stick to it by yourself.” Hizashi set a mug down in front of Izuku that Shouta didn’t recognize. It had a big toothy smile with All Might’s bangs over it. Had it come with the kid? Would he notice if it vanished? “We’re worried that it’s too intense. You were in the gym for three hours yesterday. Normally you’d take a day off afterwards. I don’t think you’re getting enough sleep either.”

Shouta asked the question Hizashi clearly wanted to. “Who came up with your regimen?” He was sure he could guess. 

Izuku flinched. “Ah… well. My dad, mostly, but he didn’t really  _ come up _ with it. He just has me doing the same routine he had as a kid.” He shrugged, looking shifty. “It’s a family thing.”

Hizashi and Shouta exchanged a  _ look _ .

“Can you tell us a bit more about that?” Hizashi pressed. “What  _ kind _ of family thing?”

“I’m not really supposed to talk about it.” Izuku took a long pull from his tea mug as his gaze turned inwards. “It’s sort of like martial arts with a philosophical aspect. I learned from my grandpa until he got too sick and then my dad took over. Today was a meditation day so it was  _ sort _ of like a day off.”

Meditation done in a handstand counted as a ‘day off’. Shouta closed his eyes and counted until he felt less like gearing up and going hunting. It didn’t really work, but he got to a place where he could remember that he’d do this problem child more good with his presence than his absence. 

The good news was that his opinion of his own parenting potential had gone up. Midoriya had been raised by wolves and dust bunnies, apparently. Shouta and Hizashi’s quality of oversight could only be an improvement.

“Ok, I won’t press too much… but I want Sho to re-evaluate your physical conditioning.” Hizashi looked to Shouta for confirmation and he nodded. They were absolutely overhauling that. “You aren’t your dad and his routine might not be what serves you best. Overtraining can lead to injuries you cannot risk if you want to be a hero.”

The kid nodded slowly. He looked conflicted.

“I’ve got one more question.” Hizashi wasn’t quite frowning. “Your ‘family thing.’ Is there anything involved that might hurt you?”

Shouta had been trying really hard not to think about the cult activity he’d witnessed before in his career. Sometimes they were just members of a happy commune and the worst thing they did was grow their own pharmaceuticals. More often they were gearing up for mass murder or suicide. 

Izuku froze. “I...” He swallowed. “Not exactly?”

Shouta did not like that tone. “What does that mean?”

“If things were normal then no. I’d be fine. It’s a peaceful religion; meditation and the preservation of knowledge.” Izuku hunkered in on himself and started pulling on his lip; turtle mode. He did not seem to notice that he’d admitted he was part of a generational cult. Shouta made a note to pass that tip along to Detective Tsukauchi. It would help exonerate the kid. So far the main sticking point for that had been Midoriya senior’s lack of a motive in singling out Bakugo. ‘Weird cult nonsense’ was as good a reason as they’d found so far.

“My dad, though. He’s… he’s not doing it right anymore. You’re not supposed to hurt people and it’s his job to train up the next generation. I think that was why he tried to make me hurt Kacchan. He wanted me to see things like he does so he could keep having his way and still fulfill his purpose. I didn’t. So now I don’t know if he’ll try and take me back for another try or if he’ll decide to, you know --replace me.” He whispered the last part.

Somehow Shouta doubted that letting his former heir live would play a part in any of Midoriya Senior’s potential plans to ‘replace’ Izuku. Hopefully the son of a bitch had died of circulatory shock, but Shouta’s luck was rarely that good. Maybe necrosis would get him. The League had gone in with an awful lot of canon fodder, which suggested they’d been trying to protect a few key players from injury. They probably didn’t have a healer. That sounded nicely agonizing.

“We won’t let that happen.” Shouta surprised himself. He’d planned on letting Hizashi take point on the emotional stuff as usual. “Your job right now is to focus on yourself. Our job is to keep you safe so you can do that.” 

...and to help him unlearn self-destructive behavior, apparently. Shouta kept that part to himself. It wouldn’t be welcome at the moment.

“We’d also like it if you went back to bed. I know you were up late last night. Sleep is important and Nedzu will probably have some assignments for you already.” Hizashi moved over to the couch and somehow intuited that Midoriya would be okay with a one armed hug. “We’re also going to work up a chore rota. You don’t need to do all the cooking or clean up after everybody. Everybody contributes.” 

“C-can I get out of dishes if I cook?” Izuku ventured. Ah, bargaining. Shouta was familiar with that tactic. Unfortunately, so was Hizashi. 

“We’ll talk about that too, but I was serious about bed. You don’t have to sleep if you can’t. Give it a try anyway. You can come back down after six and we’ll eat.”

“Fiiine.” Izuku went obligingly boneless into Hizashi’s side and let the man ruffle up his hair; a picture of teenaged capitulation.

He probably would not admit it outloud, but when Shouta looked at his husband right then he didn’t see the loud, ridiculous muppet he’d married. He saw a  _ father _ and that…  _ did _ … something. To Shouta. It was a pleasant pressure in his chest. Izuku’s stay had been nothing but one crisis after another, but this part wasn’t so bad, actually. He was having trouble remembering what was so bad about the rest.

Shouta looked away.

It was getting harder and harder to remember that they weren’t going to get to keep him. 

* * *

Izuku did not win everything he wanted in the great chore debate that followed breakfast that day. He got out of dishes and Mic awarded him lunchbox duty because Aizawa not only ate his, but also allegedly had a lot of fun using it to fuck with his students. Izuku still got to cook, but he and Mic were going to trade off nights. Those were the wins. 

His big loss was ending up with bathroom cleaning duty every week, which was very annoying when he couldn’t risk using telekinesis to deal with the stuff he didn’t want to touch. Otherwise he was responsible for his own messes. 

Aizawa did not forget about Izuku’s fitness program, but they didn’t engage with it right away either. He was given a mandatory break from the gym for the rest of the week and Aizawa made him write down a list of everything he used to do. He’d also made Izuku write a page about what he wanted to get out of his new routine. Izuku tried not to read too much into that and he didn’t have much opportunity to. A lot of the following week was absorbed by school work courtesy of Nedzu, ordering uniforms, and generally settling in after those first stressful few days.

He figured out things about his new guardians he would not have learned from HeroNet; Mic was almost deaf so both he and Aizawa were fluent in JSL and would have conversations in it if they didn’t want to be overheard so Izuku had a new language to learn on top of everything else. Aizawa patrolled four nights a week in random areas of town if he didn’t have an active target so he had no problems cat napping in a sleeping bag during slow moments in the day wherever he happened to be, which Izuku had already kind of known. He’d just thought it was more deliberate than  _ that _ . Aizawa was also kind of a sadist.

Nemuri-san (Midnight) had been the one to tell Izuku more about the elaborate prank Aizawa had been pulling on his homeroom class. They’d seen him with that first lunch box and -fascinated by the idea that their teacher had a home life and possibly a home- had been trying to figure out who was making them ever since then. The idea that Aizawa was making them himself was right out. If anyone asked him a direct question he ignored it, but Aizawa kept the game going by periodically letting them catch glimpses of his lunch boxes ...just not enough to see the contents.

It seemed kind of tame for a prank, but apparently it was driving his students  _ nuts _ so Aizawa was in jerk heaven.

Other than that, school was kind of lonely. Mic and Aizawa hovered when they could and pretended they weren’t, but they were also at work so they couldn’t do it much.

He didn’t get to see much of the other students even while he was on campus and that was for the best. Yagi-san spent a lot of time with him in the staff room since he only taught foundational hero studies in the afternoons and not always then. That did a  _ lot _ to calm Izuku’s frazzled nerves.

By Thursday Izuku’s phone was working again although he had nobody to call. He had to get a new number, which he immediately sent out to his mom and all her contacts. His emails to her hadn’t been read yet, but he hadn’t expected them to be. She’d be able to catch up once she got into a port and would probably have a heart attack, but at least she would be up to date when they were able to talk again.

He could feel his dad in the Force sometimes and knew Hisashi was looking for him. It was just sometimes and he was never nearby. Izuku kept himself tightly confined in his own skull even though he knew it was nearly impossible to physically locate someone that way even through their blood connection. He didn’t want his dad to reach out to him in other ways.

By the time the weekend rolled around, he almost felt normal --so of course  _ that _ was when Aizawa finally called him down to the gym.

It was deeply surreal to see the man in regular workout clothes. He’d changed out of his usual at-home black v neck and slacks combo and into a gray t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts he’d clearly stolen from Mic. They were lime green and read YEEEAAAH in yellow down the wide black side panels, but Izuku had gotten comfortable enough that he didn’t even try to hide his chuckle.

“Yes, very amusing.” Aizawa agreed. “Get in here and stretch then I want you to wrap your hands. We’re going to spar so I can get an idea of how much work we have to do.”

Izuku didn’t need telling twice and apparently Aizawa didn’t have any issue with his warm ups because he didn’t make any comment until Izuku popped back up to his feet. Then he just nodded.

“We’ll start with physical combat. That family style of yours; is it armed or unarmed?” 

“Both, sir.” Izuku had given a lot of thought to this answer because he’d known the question was coming. “There’s three forms; unarmed and two sword styles.”

“I should have asked if you needed any gear. We’ll address that later. Right now, tell me what you can about this unarmed style.”

“It’s mostly ritualistic combat and there’s three tiers of mastership.” Izuku didn’t think the basic details would get him into too much trouble. Plus, he was sure that Aizawa wasn’t looking for a detailed breakdown of the philosophy of Echani combat. “The idea is to control the kinetic energy and motion of your opponent. It’s a grappling style, basically. I’m at the intermediate level.”

“All right. We’ll start with dodging. Try and keep me from touching you.” Aizawa backed up a little further and Izuku could feel the air grow heavy with violent intent. 

“Um, punches or taps?” He asked quickly.

Aizawa cocked his head in a show of thought. “Taps for now.” 

That was all the warning he got. Izuku bobbed backwards and then down to avoid an open handed slap from Aizawa. It was hard because the man was fast, precise, and lethal but Izuku managed to keep from getting tapped more than a few times. It was frustrating though because he knew Aizawa wasn’t going as hard as he could. Dodging was Izuku’s best skill and though he saw a few openings on Aizawa, he kept to the purpose of the session and did not try to attack.

They kept going for about five minutes before Aizawa called a break. “Not bad.” He said. “Now you attack me. I won’t fight back, just defend. Go.”

This part was harder because Aizawa turned into a greased eel. Izuku wasn’t really used to attacking without a weapon or even attacking period and it showed. He got in one single tap before Aizawa called a halt. Izuku was a sweaty, dripping mess and his opponent wasn’t even breathing hard.

So  _ that _ was fighting a Pro Hero was like.

It was weird. Izuku kind of felt like he was going to die, but at the same time he wanted this to keep going all  _ day _ . He’d never felt like that during training before.

Aizawa caught him looking. “You look like you have something to say.”

“I kind of want my dad to run into you one day.” Izuku panted. “You’re faster than he is and a little more agile. He’d hate it so much.”

Aizawa didn’t respond, exactly, but he felt kind of happy when Izuku checked in with his emotional state. Izuku wasn’t positive. No one felt just one way about anything ever. Overall Aizawa was pleased, but there was a dark undercurrent to it that made Izuku shiver. Maybe Aizawa was hoping he’d run into Izuku’s dad too. 

“Get something to drink.” Aizawa nodded at a pair of water bottles sitting by the weight machine. “Then we’re going to both attack and defend.”

_ Oh boy… _

Combined sparring was both easier and worse than the first two rounds. Izuku was a little tired and his vision was blurry, but that made it easier to not rely on his eyes too much so his reaction time improved and he took fewer taps. Echani martial arts were incredibly formal and that made things even weirder. Every Echani-style duel was supposed to be a spiritual conversation between opponents and Aizawa only spoke brutal gibberish. Still, they kept it up until Mic called down the stairs for breakfast.

“Shower first.” Aizawa was finally sweating at that point. “I’ll use the one down here. You can use the one upstairs. We’ll talk over food.”

Food sounded amazing, but Izuku was willing to sluice off first.

Mic was drinking coffee and messing around on his tablet when they joined him at the table. “Did you two have fun?”

“Aizawa kicked me around the gym for a while. It was okay.” Izuku flopped into his chair and attacked his food. He was  _ starving _ . His appetite had died down a little lately with nerves and his general lack of exertion, but it had come back with a vengeance. Fortunately, Mic knew a thing or two about teenagers in training and had loaded Izuku’s plate down.

“Okay is an adequate description of your performance.” Aizawa commented as he came up the stairs. “You weren’t kidding about that being a ritualized combat art. You were anticipating specific responses from me and it slowed you down.”

“Sort of? There’s a lot of duel etiquette involved in what I was taught, especially in teaching bouts.” Izuku shrugged. “It’s supposed to be a way for people to know each other; true communication stripped of all artifice or something like that. It’s complicated.”

“Interesting.” Aizawa seemed to actually mean that. Well, conversation through punching and backflips  _ did _ sound like something he’d be all in favor of. “Is it the same for the armed styles you mentioned?”

“Not really, no. Those are meant for actual combat.” Izuku was starting to feel prickly even though he’d already made the decision to talk about his non-Force related training. The police had never confiscated his saber, but it didn’t really look like a weapon when it was powered down and there’d been a lot going on. Izuku might have given the officer interviewing him a little nudge through the Force as well. Still, he couldn’t imagine that there was no security footage of what he’d done to his father. Like his healing ability, it had gotten out out there and there was no point in trying to close the door behind it.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t struggling with the habit of secrecy. He had to take a breath and remind himself that Mic and Aizawa were on  _ his _ side. 

“Tell us about it?” Mic got up to pour himself more coffee and took Aizawa’s mug without needing to ask.

“There’s a defensive form and a duelling form; Soresu and Makashi. Well, there’s three but Shii-cho is the training form. The motions are less efficient.” Izuku fiddled with his food as his appetite suddenly waned. The oldest journals hinted at the existence of other forms, but his ancestors had only been able preserve records of the first three. He didn’t really like thinking about everything his ancestors hadn’t been able to pass along. What sort of things would slip through  _ his _ fingers? “I prefer Soresu. My dad is more of a duellist.”

Aizawa  _ hmmed _ in thought. “Why do you prefer defense?”

The main reason was that Soresu was more effective against guns and even though they were illegal, Izuku knew he had a much larger chance of encountering a villain with projectile weapons than someone with both a sword and the knowledge to use it effectively. Telling Aizawa that would be pushing the bounds of credulity though.

“It’s not  _ strictly _ defensive.” Izuku admitted. “The point is to outlast your opponent until they start to make mistakes and the attacks are meant to incapacitate, deflect, or disarm. It seemed more useful for any situation I was ever going to be in.”

“That’s good thinking.” Mic returned with two mugs of coffee. His was a lot darker than the one he put down in front of Aizawa, but Izuku had figured out that Aizawa preferred to drink his calories when possible. His quirk probably demanded more fat and sugar than the average person too. Brain stuff usually did. Mic, on the other hand, wanted maximum caffeination. “Heroes arrest villains. Not even the guys in the top ten can really get away with killing a villain unless it’s someone who can’t be detained or stopped otherwise.”

“There’s value in a decisive attack.” Aizawa took a pull on his mug and his eyes slipped shut for a second. “Outlasting an opponent is acceptable when there’s no bystanders or hostages in play, which almost never happens. It’ll depend on what kind of hero you become. Daytime patrollers need to be able to put their targets down hard and fast since they’re usually dealing with crimes of opportunity, but underground and nighttime patrollers have specific cases so they have more control over where their takedowns happen. I don’t know how much help I can be with rounding out your weapons skills. My capture weapon is very different. We’ll have to look into finding you a tutor.”

“Internships will be coming up right after the festival. That might be a good opportunity.” Mic reached for his tablet. “You won’t be able to get any draft picks since you’re not competing, but the school usually approaches specific agencies on the behalf kids who didn’t attract any offers. That might work out better in your favor.” He paused and made a face. “The guys who recruit from the sports festival are sometimes a little…  _ eeeh _ .” He waggled his hand in a ‘hit or miss’ gesture. “A lot of UA first years put their all into placing well in the festival and end up getting an internship that is a complete waste of their time.”

“It would happen less if they spent any time researching their options before accepting an offer.” Aizawa grumbled.

“You can still get a dud that way. Don’t underestimate the power of the propaganda machine.” 

“I don’t. That was why I stayed underground and boring.”

Izuku smiled into his mug of tea as his guardians snipped at each other. Mic and Aizawa’s relationship reminded him of his grandparents. They’d loved to bicker, but it had rarely ever gotten heated; just a comfortable back-and-forth. He rubbed his chest, feeling for the spot that always got sore when he thought of his grandparents. It had been months since he’d been able to think of them without it hurting, but today it was okay.

Mic paused his side of the debate about media in the role of heroics to check his phone. “Huh, Toshinori says he’s coming over --aaaand that he’s a few minutes out.”

“Nice of him to wait on an invitation.” Aizawa sighed and got up to clear the table. “Midoriya, go crack a window in the kitchen to let the room air out.”

“I wonder if it’s about the investigation?” Mic mused out loud and went to refill the electric kettle.

“One can only hope.”

Izuku checked his phone and did not see any messages from Yagi-san so it probably  _ was _ about the investigation. Yagi-san and Detective Tsukauchi acted like they knew each other pretty well so he was more likely than most to get extra details about what the police were up to.

The door rang just as Aizawa finished loading the dishwasher. 

Yagi-san hadn’t been kidding about being close. Izuku retreated downstairs. Thanks to Aizawa’s security protocols, he wasn’t allowed to be in view when anyone answered the door or talk when Aizawa or Mic were on the phone with a stranger. They didn’t leave him down there long. Mic came and got him within a few minutes.

“Good morning, my boy.” Yagi-san clapped him on the shoulder and Izuku hid his wince. Even in his smaller form, Yagi was still very strong. “I’m glad to see you looking so well. Are you all settled in here?”

“Yes, sir. Mic-san and Aizawa-san have been really nice.”

“That’s good. That’s good.” Yagi-san looked nervous even though he seemed to be trying to hide it. “Let’s sit for a moment if you don’t mind. There’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”

Oh no.

Izuku was starting to hate the couch. No one ever seemed to use it unless they were giving him bad news or talking about  _ feelings _ . 

If Izuku had twigged right away to Yagi-san’s odd mood, Aizawa had scented it like a shark with blood. Mic didn’t seem entirely happy either, but neither did he seem to know what was going on. 

Yagi-san sat on the couch with both hands braced on his knees as he stared straight ahead and at no one in particular. “I visited my doctors this morning.” He announced. “Is there something you would like to tell me, young man?”

Izuku blinked. “Um… not really?”

That got Yagi-san to look his way. “Nothing at all?” 

He tried to think of anything he might have to do with…  _ oh _ . Oh. That. Izuku felt his face turn red. “Oh, um…  _ actually… _ ” 

That got the attention of his guardians too. Aizawa in particular looked like he was considering going over the coffee table. 

“In my defense, I forgot.” Izuku gulped as Yagisan’s unsettling eyes narrowed at him.

He covered his face with one hand. “When did you even find time to do it, kid?” Yagi groaned. “I’ve been wracking my brain ever since I left the imaging lab, but I can’t think of a time when you’d have had an  _ opportunity _ and how did you not hurt yourself?”

“Wait,  _ what’s _ going on?” Mic stood up, agitated. “Izuku, an explanation would be good now because my imagination isn’t doing me any favors.”

“I went in for my regular examination today and found out I’d put on a little weight.” Yagi-san explained and Izuku could actually see that, especially around his face. “Eating hasn’t been as awful as usual. I also thought I should have lost some time off my clock after fighting that Noumu so my medical team opted to do a CT scan. Imagine how surprised we all were to find that most of my stomach and part of my missing lung decided to grow back since I got scanned last year.”

That  _ was _ actually surprising. Izuku hadn’t really been trying to repair or replace anything. In theory that was possible, but he’d never done anything except freeform healing. He’d just been trying to bolster Yagi-san’s failing system.

“O-oh.” Izuku wilted further as the looks centered on him intensified. “Good?”

“I appreciate what you did, but you  _ cannot _ use your quirk on people without permission.” Yagi-san frowned. It looked more sad than anything. “Especially after what happened at the USJ. Did you really think I’d appreciate you hurting yourself for my sake?”

“I didn’t!” Izuku could tell right away that no one in the room believed him. Aizawa in particular looked like he could have been carved out of a very unhappy stone. “It was before that when we used to meet up on the train… back when I couldn’t talk about my quirk.”

“The train?” That seemed to throw him. Yagi-san sat back and frowned thoughtfully. “That’s not possible. Organ reconstruction takes hours of concentrated effort when it’s even possible. Healers around the globe have tried to rebuild what I lost and all failed.”

“I wasn’t trying to replace anything.” Izuku felt like the room was a little less frigid, but it was hard to tell and everyone was feeling so much that he couldn’t read any of it except to say they were upset and alarmed. “You were in the beginning stages of organ failure. I was just stabilizing you a little so you weren’t spitting blood all the time. It was palliative care. My grandmother taught me how and it’s what we did to treat Jiisan’s pain when the hospital sent him home for the last time. I didn’t give you anything I couldn’t spare and, um, not enough to replace your stomach. ” He paused and added, “I think.”

“You  _ think. _ ” Aizawa echoed. 

“His quirk is weird.” Izuku held up his hands. “It moves around, kind of? It got active sometimes when I gave him a boost like it was trying to help.”

Yagi-san’s gaze flicked up to something over Izuku’s shoulders and a muscle in his jaw ticked. 

Izuku knew One For All wasn’t like other quirks, but Yagi-san’s explanation hadn’t quite covered the true extent of it. Sometimes he’d almost felt like it was watching him while he worked. It hadn’t seemed malicious and Izuku hadn’t been all  _ that _ sure he wasn’t imagining things. He was starting to have doubts about that.

“I... see.” He said as his eyes tracked something Izuku couldn’t see or sense. “That does make some sense. I can’t discuss the matter too much, but my quirk has surprised me before.” He reached out and settled his hand on Izuku’s head. “Thank you, my boy, but please don’t do it again. I’d rather not see you in another hospital bed.”

“That was a really different circumstance, but… all right.” Izuku dropped his gaze. “I promise.”

“How?” That was Mic. He  _ wasn’t _ happy and Izuku knew he was going to get it once Yagi-san wasn’t around. “If it’s different then you’re going to need to help us understand.”

“Um...it was mostly a difference of scale? I worked on Yagi-san in really small increments over a year.” Izuku couldn’t even look at Aizawa or Mic. 

Intellectually speaking, he knew nobody was going to hit him or shout at him. His old instincts were still telling him to get out of sight for a while. He knew that was the worst option he could pick, but at the same time he didn’t know what punishment in this house would look like and that was bothering him more with every passing minute. 

“With Aizawa I had to fix a lot of damage in much less time and he needed to be able to fight afterwards. I probably wouldn’t have passed out, but I didn’t get to eat that morning and I’d been too freaked out to eat much at dinner. Then I had a --a panic attack, I guess, after I woke up and someone sedated me. It was just a lot all at once.”

The living room fell quiet when Izuku stopped talking and he looked down at his hands. 

Mic found his voice first. “Hey, Izuku, do you mind going up to your room for a little bit?” He asked. “I think Sho and I need to sort some stuff out here before we talk, okay?”

Izuku flinched, but nodded. He’d kind of known things would end up going this way. “Okay.” He said softly.

He didn’t hear voices start up until his door closed behind his back. They were talking too quietly for him to really understand, but he could guess what they were talking about. He didn’t think Mic or Aizawa would send him back to the detention center, but he also knew that he was a lot to take on a good day and there hadn’t been a lot of good days for him lately. 

Mic had seemed to like him -or an  _ idea _ of him- from the get go, but they hadn’t really  _ known _ each other. Aizawa was… harder to understand. He’d called Izuku ‘his kid’ in front of Nedzu, but in the end he’d had a teenager dumped in his lap without warning. How well could anyone take that? How much trouble could Izuku cause before it got to be too much?

The springs in his mattress complained as he flopped over onto the bed and curled up around his pillow.

He  _ liked _ Mic and Aizawa was the thing. He wanted  _ them _ to like  _ him _ . If he couldn’t be with his mom or Yagi-san then he wanted to stay here. The idea that he might have endangered that had him spiralling again. That feeling was back; the one he’d had when he passed out on the gurney and had felt his head fracture into a thousand pieces all floating away in different directions.

The mattress dipped behind him and Izuku froze. He hadn’t heard anyone come in.

A gloved hand settled on his hair. 

“Breathe.” Hisashi told him quietly. That was what he always said when Izuku got too upset and overwhelmed as a kid. “Breathe through it.”

Izuku lurched out of the bed, but his feet tangled in the blankets and he fell face first into and then  _ through _ his father’s chest. He hit the floor, rolled, and scrambled backwards until his back hit the wall. 

“W-what…” Izuku squeaked.

Hisashi knelt down in front of him. “You’re calmer now. Good.” He held up a hand to hover just in front of Izuku’s face. He felt the touch of his father’s mind flick feather-like across the surface of his thoughts and feelings. “This is the third time I’ve felt you have an attack like this since we were separated. Where are you?”

“Go away.” Izuku didn’t actually manage to do more than form the words in the back of his throat. 

That wasn’t his father, he realized. It was just a projection. Hisashi wouldn’t be able to hold it for long. It was a costly technique; one of the few Force abilities he knew of that could actually kill the practitioner. 

Hisashi ignored him and looked towards the door. “The people downstairs.” His lips thinned with displeasure. “Are  _ those _ the people who took you?”

“Go away!” Izuku had more luck with the second try; too much luck. He heard someone call his name from downstairs.

“This is enough.” Hisashi looked back at Izuku. His emotions were no more available to Izuku than they’d ever been, but there was something about the tightness around his eyes. “Come home.”

_ “H-home?” _ Izuku echoed, suddenly furious. “Where’s home? Home is gone! Because of you!”

“Do you think they understand you? Would you be feeling this way if they ever could?” Hisashi asked icily, rising up as the bedroom door flew open.  _ “I  _ am your home.”

He turned his head to regard Mic and Aizawa standing in the hallway with a flat, reptilian gaze. 

“So you are the ones who abducted my son.” He said with insincere cordiality. “I’m so pleased to make your acquaintance at last.”


	5. Part Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yagi-san?”
> 
> Izuku’s mentor turned to him. “Yes?”
> 
> “How do you know when to stop keeping a secret?”

Hizashi was the one who noticed the thud from upstairs. Normally you wouldn’t credit the deaf guy with having the best hearing in the room, but his hearing aids were really sophisticated and had been designed for hero work. They were his most subtle support items. One of their functions was to isolate and highlight certain ambient noises for him like distressed voices and people moving around in other rooms.

Yagi and Shouta were… well, they were fighting in a very low, controlled volume and pretending it was a discussion. Shouta didn’t like Yagi in general and considering the fact that it was clear that Yagi would pick Midoriya up and carry him off in his pocket the first chance he got, that dislike had gone from passive to _active_. Hizashi had seen it coming and the reason he’d sent Izuku upstairs was so he wouldn’t have to sit through it. Now he was kind of considering hiding up there himself.

It’s not that he couldn’t understand _why_ Shouta was upset. They’d been having a really good morning when Yagi had shown up. Sho would never admit it, but _that’s_ what he was mad about and not something Izuku had done months before they’d ever met him.

There weren’t many subjects that would make Izuku disappear into his shell, but his quirk was first and foremost among them followed by anything about his past home life. Hizashi had been putting off talking to him about it. Chiyo had benched Izuku from using his quirk and the Quirk Registry Office kept rejecting Hizashi’s requests for a new evaluation session so he didn’t see a point in pushing the issue until Izuku was more comfortable with them.

So, of course, _that_ was what Yagi showed up to talk about.

All the progress they’d made over the past week had just disappeared in a puff of smoke and disappointment. Izuku had emerged from his shell enough over the past few days to share a little about himself. Training had softened him up a little more and Hizashi had gotten a glimpse of this enthusiastic rambly little kid he _really_ wanted to know better.

Aside from a very slight stammer, Izuku was passionate and articulate when he got into a subject. Granted, the subject had been his family’s creepy religion. So what? It was a start! Hizashi was willing to take what he could get though and it had involved fighting, which was going to get Shouta involved every time.

No matter what Yagi or Shouta had to say, Hizashi didn’t have any intention of punishing Izuku for providing comfort to a dying man. He was pretty sure Sho was on the same page. They were going to work out some more ground rules, sure. Izuku’s quirk scared him a little because he could see the kid hurting himself with it, but that was the danger with every strong quirk. Hizashi knew that better than most. His entire family had lost their hearing by the time he was two because of his.

Yagi, meanwhile, was probably just as scared and had been scared for Izuku longer than they had. Hizashi understood that too. He was pretty sure Yagi hadn’t really talked to anyone about the USJ incident. He’d been an irritable mess for days afterwards and obviously furious with himself. Unlike Hizashi and Shouta, he didn’t have an agency breathing down his neck and making him go to emergency therapy sessions. 

That didn’t make the current situation any easier to bear though. Really, he was _this_ close to just kicking Yagi out so they could go upstairs and start fixing things again.

Hizashi frowned as he caught the tail end of Izuku’s voice saying something that sounded equal parts defiant and scared. He stood up, nerves tingling. “Izuku?” He called up the stairs. “Everything ok up there?”

He didn’t actually wait for a response, taking the steps two at a time.

There was a man’s voice coming from Izuku’s room. “...enough.” He said. “Come home.”

 _Nope._ No way. No way in hell was _that_ man in Hizashi’s house. He was _not_ having it.

 _“H-home?”_ Izuku hissed and he’d never heard the little guy sound so pissed off. “Where’s home? Home is gone! Because of you!”

“Do you think they understand you? Would you be feeling this way if they ever could?”

That _son of a..._

Hizashi rounded the corner, humming low in his throat to build up a sonic blast. It took him longer without his speaker, but he had never lost the habit from school. He threw open Izuku’s door, ready to throw down.

 _“I_ am your home.”

Izuku was on the floor, back the wall and standing over him was a man Hizashi had only ever seen in fuzzy security camera stills. He was taller than Izuku was likely to ever be with slicked back hair that curled at the nape and he dressed in all black; black button-front shirt open at the throat, black creased slacks, black wingtip shoes, and black leather gloves.

He tilted his gaze in Hizashi’s direction and his eyes were the only part of his face where he could find the slightest trace of Izuku. The man’s eyes were a deep yellow-green with long thin pupils.

“So you are the ones who abducted my son.” His comment was almost pleasant; like he was discussing the weather. “I’m so pleased to make your acquaintance at last.”

Hizashi let the shout he’d been building up loose in a guttural _OUT_ that should have punched the intruder through the wall behind him and maybe the one behind that. Hizashi was _that_ mad. It was a tighter, narrower cone of effect than he was capable of with his support gear. The good news was that he was a lot more precise like this and kept Izuku out of his target zone.

The concussive force passed harmless through the man’s body with a slight ripple of blue energy. It took out the picture window behind him, pulverized the balcony railing, and dented the thick privacy wall outside.

The man gave him a fraction of a bow with a narrow, sharp toothed smile of mockery.

Hizashi felt Shouta’s touch against his side and moved. Shouta’s scarves flew past him and wrapped around Izuku’s shoulders and hips. The boy yelped in alarm as he flew forward and landed in Shouta’s arms. He shoved Izuku back towards Yagi without breaking momentum.

“Go.” He hissed. “There’s a safe room in the basement.”

The man in Izuku’s room winked out of existence with an amused snort. Was he a teleporter? That couldn’t be right. Hizashi had read through Izuku’s police interviews. Hadn’t he said his dad was a fire breather?

“There’s an accomplice!” Hizashi shouted as he slammed Izuku’s door. Teleporters usually needed line of sight to work. He needed to cut off visual access to the inside of the house. “House, lock down now! High alert!”

A bell chimed through the speakers hidden through their home and the ambient light dimmed as military grade shutters dropped over every window and possible entrance; or the hole where one used to be in the case of Izuku’s bedroom. Hizashi pelted after Yagi. Shouta vaulted over the bannister to get ahead the group and check the stairs for more intruders.

The safe room was a narrow armored space located underneath the stairs and was nearly impossible to spot unless you knew it was there. Shouta cleared the basement and stood guard while Hizashi thumbed the lock. He waved Yagi and Izuku in ahead and dragged Shouta inside by the back of his shirt before locking the room.

“We’re sealed in from projection quirks here.” Hizashi panted and rubbed his throat. He forgot sometimes how much the directional speaker protected his voice. “The house will have sent alerts to the local hero agencies when I triggered the shut down. A team should be by a few seconds to check the area.”

He looked around until he found Izuku; wide eyed, trembling, and wedged into the corner furthest from the door.

“ _Hey_ , hey now.” Hizashi slid in next to him and held up one arm in a mute offer of a hug that Izuku threw himself into. He squeezed the kid as tightly as he dared. “It’s safe. You’re safe. We’re all okay.”

Shouta wiggled past Yagi to kneel in front of them. “Are you all right?”

Izuku nodded. “He just talked.” He paused to sniff. “He wanted me to…”

“I heard.” Shouta looked at Hizashi. “Did you hear anything from before we were on the stairs?”

Bullshit was what Hizashi had heard. He ran his free hand down Shouta’s back to make himself feel better. It was going to be a while before he felt safe in the house again. “I don’t think so. Izuku?”

“He said…” Izuku took a breath and the tremors wracking his narrow shoulders began to subside. “He was trying to say you weren’t taking care of me. W-what would _he_ know about it?” He added bitterly.

“He was looking for a button to push.” Shouta caught Hizashi’s eye. “He wanted Izuku to leave the house by himself. There was probably a pickup vehicle outside. They know where the house is.”

Maybe.

“Maybe not.” Hizashi remembered the look on his face when Hizashi’s shout had passed through him. If he could have counter attacked then Hizashi was sure he would have. He hadn’t. He also hadn’t really interacted with anything so far as Hizashi had seen. He’d just talked and loomed.

Projection quirks were usually line of sight, but not always. He’d shown up directly in Izuku’s sealed room. The kid kept the windows shuttered even during the day so there was no way to look in except from inside the house. So either Dragon had somehow gotten past three irritable and paranoid pro heroes _or_ his accomplice’s quirk vector wasn’t line of sight. Hizashi had heard of quirks using blood or hair as a targeting mechanism before so the idea wasn’t all that ridiculous. “I think he was fishing for Izuku’s location. I don’t think he got it.”

“Perhaps.” Shouta stood and pulled out his phone. The screen lit up with the number for the Mt Lady agency. Going by the male voice it was (thank heaven) not Mt Lady herself because Hizashi and Shouta were already persona non grata with their quiet, elderly, and conservative neighbors. Attracting a hero with gigantism to the neighborhood might have resulted in a mob with pitchforks instead of cameras.

Shouta answered the call and turned away to give a quick report for the incident. He hung on the line for another minute or so before stowing his phone again. “Mt Lady’s teamed up with Kamui Wood and Death Arms to do recon around the area. They haven’t spotted anyone.” Oh well, maybe she would be her normal size when she showed up.

“Those three again?” Izuku hunched his shoulders as Hizashi and Shouta looked his way with curiosity.

“He had a run in with them once before. Nothing official.” Yagi interceded on Izuku’s behalf. “It would probably be best if they didn’t see young Midoriya. They’d likely recognize him and they’re all young people still. They might not remember to keep quiet about it.” 

“I-I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t remember me.” Izuku covered his face with both hands. “That was _forever_ ago.”

“Perhaps.” Yagi allowed. “They might not, but people tend to remember if I get involved. This happened around the time I met young Midoriya.”

“This sounds like a story I need to hear.” Hizashi ruffled Izuku’s hair as he tried to roll himself up into a little ball of shame.

The story was a lot less amusing than he’d hoped and did something to explain how Izuku’s general caution around authority figures came to be reinforced by adults outside his home. Shouta started pinching the bridge of his nose about halfway through. Hizashi himself got the impression that Izuku was leaving some bits out as well. For example, he didn’t mention how he ended up at the second attack site or how the Sludge villain got loose. If All Might was involved, it was probably classified or private.

Yagi volunteered some parts that Izuku hadn’t been present for; namely the three young heroes getting a loud and public dressing down from the local station police chief afterwards. 

“I think Yagi’s correct.” Shouta commented. “They’ll remember that, if nothing else.”

Hizashi knew how his husband’s mind worked. “Izuku and I will stay in the safe room when you get the all clear.”

“I’ll stay.” Yagi volunteered. “It’s unlikely that I’ll be recognized, but it might attract notice if Yamada doesn’t come out.”

Shouta shrugged and as much as Hizashi wanted to stay in the safe room like a dragon with his tiny wide-eyed hoard he also absolutely did not want Shouta outside alone. He knew he could trust Izuku with All Might and so when Shouta’s phone buzzed a second time he followed his husband upstairs to greet the recon team.

* * *

Yagi-san was quiet as the armored door slid shut behind Mic and Aizawa.

Izuku missed Mic’s arm around his shoulder almost at once. He didn’t often get hugs unless his mom was around, but Mic was incredibly tactile and Izuku had been taking hesitant advantage of that. 

Without his guardians around to distract him, his thoughts turned inwards again; towards his dad and his dad’s casual use of the Force in front of strangers. 

He almost didn’t _want_ to believe it. If there was anything he’d thought his dad held sacrosanct it was the Midoriya family sacred traditions. Yes, he’d become a villain but he had a combat quirk. Izuku had somehow thought that would be enough. He’d used his telekinesis at the USJ, but he hadn’t planned on leaving any witnesses either.

This was getting too deep.

If he was projecting himself across town then what _else_ was he doing? He was already courting the dark side --had maybe _given_ himself over to the dark side. Where would he stop? Would he stop at all?

“Yagi-san?”

Izuku’s mentor turned to him. “Yes?”

“How do you know when to stop keeping a secret?”

Even asking the question felt like too much, but… Izuku’s dad could have hurt someone just now. If he had been strong enough he _would_ have. Izuku was pretty sure it hadn’t happened because Hisashi was still hurt, but that wouldn’t be the case next time. 

Yagi-san regarded him thoughtfully. “Are you keeping a secret, young Midoriya?” He asked and Izuku nodded slowly. “I see. May I ask why?”

“I-I promised someone.” Izuku pulled his knees to his chest, which was pretty uncomfortable on the narrow bench. “Someone really important to me.”

“Will that person be hurt if you tell?” was Yagi-san’s next gentle question.

“N-no. He’s dead.” That hurt to admit for some reason. Hadn’t he been feeling better about it just that morning? “He died last year.”

“Will anyone else be hurt if you keep quiet?”

“I-I think maybe.” Izuku stole a glance in Yagi’s direction. He didn’t look or feel mad; just sad and maybe tired. Izuku looked away. “I didn’t before, but now…”

“Last question, my boy.” Yagi-san looked at him and that quiet, tired sorrow changed into something else that Izuku didn’t quite have the vocabulary to describe. It was like anger, but not angry. “Will _you_ be hurt if you speak up?”

Izuku turned his face into his knees. That was the question he’d been trying _not_ to ask himself because he already knew the answer. “I’m going to get hurt no matter what.” He whispered.

“I see.” Yagi-san fell into thoughtful silence for a little bit. Then, hesitantly, he said, “I have lived with the secret of One for All for most of my adult life. There are people who I’ve had to reveal myself to, but I was fortunate enough to start with one adult who I could talk to without holding anything back. He’s an awful old man, but having an outside perspective helped when nothing else did. If you’re willing then I would be happy to hear you out and offer whatever advice I can.” His mouth quirked in a mirthless smile. “You know I can keep a secret, at least.”

Izuku’s throat closed up and his eyes burned. Yagi-san had been a bad choice, he realized, because it meant he was going to have to explain everything. “You’re going to be mad...” He croaked. “...and disappointed in me.”

“Well, now, I can tell you that’s not true.” A broad hand settled on his back. “I know your heart is good and whatever you’ve done or said to stay safe won’t change that.”

“Even if I lied to you?” 

Yagi-san didn’t answer right away. “Even then, my boy.” He said at last; soft and sincere.

It was so much harder than Izuku had thought it would be to open his mouth after that. He felt small and repulsive. He hadn’t ever actually said the words ‘I have a quirk’, but he’d let people believe it. He hadn’t had a choice and he _knew_ he hadn’t, but that didn’t change the way he felt when he heard the words ‘your quirk’ coming out of someone’s mouth.

He took a breath.

“I don’t actually have a quirk.”

* * *

_I’m booking a hotel room._

Hizashi signed to Shouta from across the room where he was standing over Death Arms’ shoulder. They were reviewing the house security footage, but Hizashi had his phone out and was apparently getting them a room for the night. There weren’t any cameras in the bedrooms, but there was one in the hall outside Izuku’s bedroom and it could see inside a little bit. They’d reviewed the footage before letting the junior heroes see it. Izuku didn’t appear on the recording, but the place where Dragon had been standing would.

 _One room._ Shouta signed back. _Two beds. High security suite_.

 _Already picked one out. I may never be able to let Problem Child out of my sight again._

Wasn’t that the truth? Shouta was not looking forward to leaving Izuku in the staff room come Monday morning. The kid was a lightning rod. It wasn’t his fault. Heroes usually were and all heroes had been kids at one point. It was just frustrating to be present for this stage in the development of one and not being able to punch trouble in its condescending face. 

Hizashi pointed at the screen. “He was there.”

“I’m not seeing anything on thermal filter.” Death Arms frowned. “You’re right. It was a remote projection. I’ll touch base with one of my police contacts and see if they’re willing to do a quirk registry search. We’ll see what comes up.”

“We appreciate it.” Hizashi was a lot more gracious about it than Shouta would have been, but that’s why he was the one who did the talking in their house.

“Congrats, by the way.” Mt Lady added, looking up from the after-action form she’d been filling out on their behalf. “The circumstances suck, but it’s always great to see a pro pushing back against the misantropic bachelor stereotype.”

She meant Present Mic, not Eraserhead. None of these headaches recognized Shouta and he was _glad_. The downside was that they all thought he was Hizashi’s civilian spouse. 

Kamui let himself in through the front door. “So I have good news and bad news.” He came over to look over Mt Lady’s shoulder. “I didn’t find any evidence of surveillance outside; no footprints or spy cameras. Whatever vector your stalker’s quirk relies on, it’s not line-of-sight. There’s a good chance that they are working blind. They probably had something belonging to their target to use as a focus.”

“Foci can’t be reused...” Mt Lady mused. “...and they can expire if you don’t use it right away. I don’t remember what the psychic decay rate is off the top of my head, but if you relocate for a bit to a dummy site then that could keep your primary residence from being discovered.”

“It’s a day or so for blood depending on the level of contamination, hours for a physical object, and I think a week for hair with a follicle attached.” Death Arms lumbered over to join their conversation and Shouta was officially in hell; fenced in on all sides by three fetuses trying to tell him his own job and he couldn’t kick any of them.

Thank _fuck_ for Hizashi.

Hizashi had perfected the art of getting people to back off Shouta without letting them realize what he’d done; mostly by being outrageous. It was some combination of big gestures, volume, and blinding smiles that almost never failed. This time he inserted himself between Death Arms and Shouta and swept his arms out like a game show host. _“Bingo!_ We’ll be getting a room for tonight.”

“Do you need an escort?” Kamui asked. “In case they make another attempt.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Hizashi smiled, thumbing the dial on his speaker, and it wasn’t his usual friendly smile. It was the one he used to fuck with villains and prospective students at the heroics exam. He leaned in towards Kamui who backed right up and Shouta felt his mood lift. “I welcome their best effort.”

“Um, that’s very good, sir.” Kamui looked at his friends for help. “We’ll stick around the area while you pack. Shoot one of us a message when you get ready to leave?”

“Sure thing.” Hizashi kept his grin in place until the door closed and sealed after them then he dropped it and rubbed his temples. “They’re nice people.” He sounded like he was reminding himself more than Shouta. “I shouldn’t be mad at them because they were mean to my kid once.”

“You’re a parent now. You don’t need to be fair.” Shouta advised. _He_ sure wasn’t, but then again he never had seen the point of niceties in the first place. 

Hizashi bumped shoulders with him with a more genuine smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’ll go get Yagi and Izuku. We’ve got a reservation through BoltHole. I forwarded you the address.”

BoltHole was a small hero-centric app equivalent to AirBNB that rented out safehouses in the metropolitan areas in and around Tokyo. Shouta had had mixed experiences with the actual accommodations, but the app’s cyber security made it very difficult to trace the location of their guests. It would do.

The upstairs was dark without any of the house’s usual natural light. The state of Izuku’s room made him wince. His belongings were untouched for the most part. The window was gone and its casing was fractured and warped so that pinpricks of light peeked around the perimeter of the shutter. They’d have to replace the entire thing along with the balcony.

Something else was bothering him about the dark little space and he paused, trying to chase down exactly what. He and Hizashi had stayed out of Izuku’s room as a general rule. The kid was tidy enough so he didn’t need help picking up after himself and they’d agreed that he needed to feel safe and private. It was clean aside from the property damage and some discarded shoes in one corner; almost _too_ clean --and the problem hit him then.

It was the walls.

Shouta remembered Izuku arriving with a box full of hero merch including an All Might bed throw. He’d had posters, a few plushies, and other little knick knacks. Shouta had seen a box that was just books; old journals and some beat up composition books. The bookshelves were empty except for some school-provided reference materials. Where were they?

Following a hunch, he opened the closet and found every box Izuku had arrived with was lined up neatly on the floor underneath Izuku’s hanging uniforms.

The kid had never unpacked.

Shouta struggled with a sudden, unwelcome sense of uncertainty. It had just been a week. It felt like longer, but they really had only had Izuku for a week. Settling in took a while. That wasn’t abnormal, was it? 

He looked at the plain blue comforter on the bed; the same one he’d put there himself six months ago.

“Shouta?” Hizashi voice came filtering up the stairs and something about his tone put Shouta immediately on edge. “Can you come down for a sec?”

Everyone was in the living room again when he arrived downstairs. The source of Hizashi’s concern was obvious. Izuku had his back almost pressed into Yagi. He was bone white, trembling, and wringing his hands to the point where his knuckles were bright red.

“Is there a problem?” Shouta couldn’t help the chill in his voice. They’d left Yagi alone with Izuku for _less than an hour_. How had he already set off a new crisis?

“No problem.” Yagi patted Izuku on the shoulder. “Midoriya has something he’d like to talk to you about. It has to do with today’s incident.”

 _That_ got Shouta’s attention. He shared a look with Hizashi, who shook his head. He didn’t want another emotional conversation right now either. Meanwhile Izuku looked like he was about to keel over and Shouta’s own emotions felt scraped raw.

“Can it wait until we’re at the safehouse?” Shouta asked in an attempt to delay. “We’re exposed here.”

“N-no, we’re not.” Izuku had his hands fisted in the hem of his t-shirt. “He won’t be able to do that again anytime soon. He stayed too long and did too much.”

“Maybe start at the beginning.” Yagi coached him. “Tell them what you told me.”

“I…” The kid gulped and went even paler somehow. He looked terrified. Of _them_. “...I…”

All right, _that_ was enough. No confession or information was worth whatever was going on in that kid’s head. Shouta and Hizashi started forward at the some moment. Shouta had some half-formed plan of kicking Yagi out and Hizashi might have been going in to take Izuku away, but they were both brought up short when Izuku managed to spit out what he’d been trying to say.

 _“I don’t have a quirk!”_ His hands flew up to cover his mouth and he squeezed his eyes shut. He cracked one eye open to watch them warily. 

“Izuku, buddy…” Hizashi was visibly searching for strength. “That’s not true. You’ve got a great quirk and I don’t care what that man told...”

Yagi stopped him. “Hear Midoriya out please.”

“I _don’t_ have a quirk.” Izuku’s trembling eased now that the big thing seemed to be out of the way. “The registry office is refusing to re-evaluate me, right?”

Wait.

_What?_

“Well, yeees…” Hizashi rubbed the back of his neck, taken aback and guilty. He shot a glance in Shouta’s direction and then looked away. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but it’s just a temporary setback.”

Izuku shook his head.

“No. See, they don’t just give out ‘quirkless’ status if you can’t prove you have a quirk. You get labelled as having an ‘unverifiable quirk’ then.” He explained. “The quirk registry department is tracking the rate of population conversion in Japan. I had to get a bunch of x-rays and genetic testing done to verify that I’m quirkless. I’m part of the fourth generation post quirk emergence. My chances of being born quirkless were less than 0.001%. Statistically, I was more likely to get hit by lightning while being eaten by a shark than I was to not get a quirk.”

Shouta frowned. His memory of the USJ incident had been jumbled right afterwards, but he’d gotten most of it back. He could even sort of remember the healing session; two warm, chapped palms cupping his face and a rush of sensation that was neither hot nor cold. The feeling had been too unique for him to have dreamed it. What was that if not a quirk?

“I --what I did for Aizawa and Yagi-san was different. It’s part of a different ability. Most everyone in my family has had it. It’s hereditary like a quirk, sort of, but you can be Force sensitive and also have a quirk --like my dad.” He took a breath. “I heard you talking. There’s no accomplice. He did all that on his own. It’s really dangerous and kinda stupid, but it’s possible.”

“Ok.” Hizashi wet his lips. “ _Ok_. That is --it’s a lot and I may not be following. Are you saying your father has multiple quirks?”

“No, Force sensitivity is different. It’s more like…” Izuku searched for words and Yagi seemed comfortable taking a step back then. “...it’s more like a capacity than an ability. Most people have an innate understanding of how to activate their quirk, right? A Force sensitive without training is just a normal person. They might have better intuition than most, but that’s about it. My dad though, he’s had a lot of training and he is very powerful.”

“Why are we just hearing about this _now?”_ Shouta had no way to describe what he was feeling. Was he angry? Was he confused? Was he betrayed? 

“I-I made a promise.” Izuku dropped his gaze to his shoes. “I told you my family has a religion? This is it. One of my ancestors was a refugee that ended up settling in Japan. I don’t really know where she came from, but her journal talks about these religious purges that she ran away from. She had kids here and passed on what she knew in secret. We’re not supposed to talk about it to outsiders and I-I-I don’t _understand_ why Dad suddenly changed his mind about that, but he _did_ and that means you need to know. Even though I promised.”

 _Weird cult nonsense,_ he’d said not too long ago. Shouta could have slapped himself for not investigating more closely, but would Izuku have told him if he’d asked? Would he have shared that much of himself? He hadn’t even unpacked his _books_.

“You don’t believe me.” Izuku was looking straight at Shouta and he felt flayed in ways that didn’t quite make sense. “I can prove it.”

Yagi coughed and interjected. “Ah… maybe not the way you showed _me_ , please.” He said quietly and Izuku blushed.

“I didn’t have anything else!” He objected and cleared his throat, peeking back in Shouta’s direction. “You can erase quirks, right?”

Shouta limited himself to a nod. Hizashi reached out to touch his sleeve and Shouta covered his grip with one hand. 

Izuku nodded to himself. “Okay.” He took a breath and then another before closing his eyes.

There was a little table just inside the entrance way where Shouta and Hizashi tended to toss the mail. They kept the rest of their stationary there too just so it was all in one place. The ceramic cup of pencils shimmied in place as all the pens and pencils rose up and swooped through the air like slender paper planes towards Izuku’s still form. He held out his hands and the pens settled into a lazy circuit over his open palms. 

That was _pure_ _telekinesis._ It was one of the rarest categories of quirks and was almost always too weak to be of any use. Even powerful telekinetics tended to be limited in the type of thing they could move. Izuku was handling multiple objects even; _fifteen_ of them easily. That, on top of a healing ability; two of the most demanding quirks. What was this kid?

Izuku opened his eyes and spread his arms open wide. The cloud of writing utensils separated into two separate loops, one over each of his hands.

“Okay.” He repeated. “Erase my quirk.”

* * *

For a second, Izuku thought that Aizawa wouldn’t do it.

He’d been in a state of high agitation since he went upstairs. Izuku’s confession had only made things worse. Mic wasn’t happy either, but Aizawa was the one having the worse reaction. 

Yagi had promised him that they’d understand, but he hadn’t said it would be easy. 

Aizawa abruptly hauled down on his capture scarves as his hair rose up and his eyes flashed red. Part of Izuku expected to feel the effect of Aizawa’s quirk, but he didn’t feel anything. That was almost as startling as feeling it would have been. Discipline kept the pens in orbit over his hands, but Izuku’s ability to maintain concentration was not great at the moment. He held on and changed the angle of the pens a few times to prove he didn’t have some sort of scripted action quirk.

“Sho.” Hizashi frowned and pulled at Aizawa’s sleeve. “Sho. That’s enough.”

That was enough to startle him out of it and Izuku forced himself to go through the motions of returning the pens and pencils to their cup.

Aizawa was still staring at him, but his scarves had returned to their normal state around his shoulders. “All right.” His voice had a raw quality to it, like he’d just stepped back from a ledge. It was more emotion than Izuku had ever seen him actually express beyond a sinister smile or mild apathy. Izuku knew that Aizawa usually had more going on internally, but he just felt _blank_ right then. Whatever he felt was too deep for Izuku to see without digging and digging would hurt the man, which Izuku did not want.

Mic was both easier and more difficult to read at the same time. His feelings were all on the surface and accessible. He was mad and sad and confused and relieved all at once; one big ball of high emotion that hurt to even look at. Weirdly though, it didn’t stop him from taking control of their situation.

“Okay, Izuku. That projection. How often can he do it?”

“Not today.” Izuku thought about it. “Probably not by tomorrow either. It’s not something you should do at all if you can avoid it in the first place. People have died just trying it. I would need a week in the state he’s in, but he’s more proficient with the Force than I am.”

That seemed to throw both his guardians. “ _You_ can do that?”

“Um.” Izuku wet his lips. “Yes? In theory? Now that I’ve seen it done, anyway. I’ve been studying, but the descriptions weren’t all that helpful.”

Mic slapped his own cheeks and took a deep, deep breath. “Ok, I hope it goes without saying that I don’t want you experimenting with ...whatever that was. We will deal with it later. What I’m hearing from you now is that we have time to pack. Yes?” Izuku nodded. “Good. Great. Go put together a bag.”

Izuku nodded again, feeling a little like a bobble-head toy. It didn’t mean anything but he couldn’t quite stop. 

“Hey.” It was Aizawa. He still felt like an absence of space, but his hand was warm on the back of Izuku’s neck. “It’s not just you. We’re all packing. Even if our location is safe, the house is not secure right now.”

He meant to say something agreeable, but when Izuku opened his mouth what came out instead was: “You’d be safer if I weren’t here.”

Aizawa snorted. “If I wanted to be safe I’d have gone to work at a cat shelter.”

Maybe. Izuku could only shrug. He still had that feeling lodged in his chest. He’d broken faith with his family; not just his grandparents, but everyone who’d gone before him and had managed to keep the secret. He’d revealed himself to Mic and Aizawa as a liar. Maybe Yagi-san was willing to forgive and forget, but he knew what it was like to have a secret consume your entire life.

“Hey.” Something slipped through Aizawa’s tight-fisted reign on his feelings. It was bright, painful, and unfamiliar. “Come here.”

Izuku didn’t really understand what was happening until his nose bumped into Aizawa’s shoulder. The older man’s free hand came up to rest on the top of Izuku’s head and coaxed his forehead down onto Aizawa’s chest.

“Your place is with us now.” He told Izuku. “If we don’t understand each other yet then we will. That’s how it works.”

“O-ok.” Izuku couldn’t quite believe him, but neither Mic nor Aizawa had lied to him yet. Maybe it was okay to take some things on faith for a little while?

* * *

Some kids when told to bring ‘everything important’ for an extended absence, would have loaded themselves down with electronics or (as in Hizashi’s case when he was a kid) ten million bottles of hair product. Izuku, meanwhile, had to be sent back upstairs twice for clothes and toiletries because all he brought downstairs was his box of books and his backpack.

Yagi gave them a lift to their BoltHole for the night in his truck, which made up a lot for the drama he’d stirred up earlier. Hizashi still sent him away once everyone was unloaded and Shouta was inside the safehouse with Izuku. Yagi didn’t put up too much of a fight although Hizashi could tell he didn’t really want to go. Too bad.

Hizashi wasn’t often possessive of his people, but there had been a _villain_ in his _house_. 

_In his house!_

The safehouse was a nondescript basement apartment in the Krayt district; one of the wealthier neighborhoods in Musutafu. It was well patrolled and all the residential buildings were aggressively uniform white stucco townhouses. Good luck picking one out of the lineup if all you had was a vision to work from. It had four rooms total; kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, and tactical room.

Izuku was in the tac room when Hizashi went back inside. It was about half the size of the living room at home and all the walls were lined with monitor screens. Shouta had them all on and rotating through different camera filters. He was doing something in the kitchen.

The only furniture was a kotatsu in the center of the room despite it being a little late in the year for one and mismatched floor cushions littering the floor. Izuku was flopped over on his back under the kotatsu. He had one of his books open over his face; an old leather-bound book a blank cover. 

“Is that one of those journals you mentioned?” Hizashi asked, kicking over a cushion for himself. He should have guessed. If he’d been thinking, Hizashi wouldn’t have left those behind either.

“Yeah.” Izuku sat up. “It belonged to one of my great-aunts. She was really good at illusions and projections. I wanted to remind myself what the limitations are.”

“Find anything good?”

He scowled. “Not really. It really does depend on a bunch of different variables; how far you send your projection, how much you interact with the environment, and how strong you are with the Force. He’s not using a physical focus to reach me though.”

Oh, wonderful.

“We’re... connected. It’s called a Force bond.” Izuku’s mouth twisted. “It can happen with any close relationship; family, lovers, teachers, that stuff. My aunt could do it with her parents and my grandfather. It was easier with her father because he was her teacher so they were connected two ways; blood and mentorship. She says it was harder the further apart they were. I think Dad was only able to find me because I was upset. He mentioned being able to feel it. I think that’s why he hadn’t shown up before now. He probably couldn’t get to me the first few times. The circumstances weren’t right.” 

Hizashi nodded. That was no different than dealing with powerful quirks in a way. They all had some kind of limitation, prerequisite, or rebound effect. The weaker the quirk, the less you were penalized for using it. “What else does she talk about in there?” He nodded at the journal.

Izuku sat up and put the journal down into a protective case. He looked at it, not seeming to really see it. “She had a lot of meditations on the nature of the Force. She also wrote about her kids and this feud she was having with a neighbor over their gardens. They both bred irises competitively.”

“Did you ever know her?” Hizashi wanted to ask about this ‘Force’ thing, but he knew better than to come on the subject head on. His interviewing skills were coming in use as a parent. Who knew?

“No, she died a year before I was born. She was on a trip with my cousins. There was a villain attack- one of Leviathan’s last big terror attacks- when they were driving over a bridge. Her health had gotten delicate and neither of her kids were Force sensitive so…” He shrugged.

Shouta came back from the kitchen with three glasses of beer at that point; two tall pint glasses and a smaller water glass. He ignored Hizashi’s _look_ as he set the short glass down in front of Izuku.

“Don’t get excited. I cut it with soda.” He said.

They didn’t drink often, usually only after a bad mission. The fact that he was including Izuku in their little ‘bad day’ ritual made Hizashi’s heart hurt in good, good ways. 

The boy took a considering sip. “Is that lemon?” He asked, licking his lips. “I’ve never had a radler before.”

Hizashi turned his _look_ on Izuku who laughed.

“Sorry, my dad kept beer in the house and let me have some if I wanted.” He explained. “I think he wanted it to seem normal and boring so I wouldn’t get crazy about it. I tried some, but he’s really into weird craft beers so I never picked up the habit. This is better.”

Well, nice to know the jerk had _some_ decent parenting strategies. Hizashi still wasn’t going to ask him for tips any time soon. 

He took a sip of his beer and found it to be a fairly generic low ABV lager. He’d had worse and it was probably a safe enough treat after the day they’d all had. Hizashi knocked half his glass back in one go. He set it down with a sigh. 

“So.” There was no good way to start the conversation so Hizashi just charged in. “This ‘Force’ you’ve been talking about; what _is_ it?”

Izuku blinked and set down his beer, totally unaware of the fact that he had a foam mustache until it dripped into the corner of his mouth. “Um, it’s kind of involved. I can explain, but the elevator speech version doesn’t cover a whole lot.”

“Try us.” Shouta watched them both over the rim of his beer glass.

“Ok, the Force is an energy field that connects all living things and binds the universe together. Some people are born with the ability to perceive it and interact with it. That’s a Force Sensitive. If you learn how to manipulate the Force then you’re an Adept.” Izuku gestured at his glass and it rose into the air, gently rotating. It lowered back down to the table and settled without so much as a ripple in the surface of the beer.

“I thought you said it was a religion?” Hizashi wasn’t religious himself. His grandmother had maintained a little roadside shrine and his mom had taken it over when she died, but that was as observant as his family had ever gotten. He was still pretty sure you needed gods to worship. “There’s no gods?”

“I don’t think personifying the Force is a good idea.” Izuku took another thoughtful sip of his beer. “It’s not a person. Its energy and it has ... _moods_ , I guess, or different aspects. I still wouldn’t characterize it as a single entity though. It’s a gestalt of all living creatures; life feeding death and vice versa.”

“So how do you worship in that case?”

“Through meditation and study. The point is to understand or at least try to.” Izuku rocked himself from side to side, looking for his words. “That’s why we don’t personify it. Make sense?”

Maybe. Hizashi thought about it and if he drew parallels between Izuku’s odd nameless religion and say, Zen Buddhism then he could _kind_ of make it work in his head. “I’ll probably have more questions later, but circle back to that ‘different moods’ thing. What did you mean by that?”

“That’s the complicated bit.” ‘Complicated’ apparently required another, much longer drink and Hizashi was very glad Shouta had watered that stuff down. He felt like their social worker was going to crawl out of a closet at any second. “There are two sides to the Force; light and dark. It’s not…” He gave a frustrated little huff. “...it’s not good and evil. It looks that way to people though, I think. Force Adepts usually have an alignment. Being truly neutral is hard. My grandfather always made it sound like you get pulled one way or the other. Maybe you do.”

“So, I’m guessing your father is on the dark side?” Hizashi was pretty sure of that guess. ‘Light’ might not equal ‘good’, but he was guessing it was not the side of casual child murder.

“He’s heading that way at least.” Izuku frowned. “Growing up, I always thought he was as close to a true neutral as you could get and I respected that. Maybe he’d just been leaning towards the Dark for a long time and is just now tipping over. He really started changing after my grandfather died.”

Shouta finally voiced a question. “Why respect neutrality?”

“Oh, um. It has to do with that ancestor I told you about.” Izuku explained, his shoulders hunched up a little. They were getting into turtle territory. They were going to have to handle the rest of this conversation very carefully or he’d shut down for the night. “She was part of this monastic order of Force Adepts, I think. They were all Light Siders and she had some critiques about their philosophy and the effects of any extreme alignment. She never said in so many words in her writings, but I think the reason she escaped whatever happened to the rest of her Order was because she’d already been getting ready to leave.”

Huh. It was a shame Hizashi was never going to get to tell anyone this story. He kind of wanted to read those journals, but Izuku was still talking.

“A dark sider is _very_ emotional. It’s easier in ways. There are techniques that aren’t accessible to a Force Adept without feeling hatred, but they start to lose restraint and-and _empathy_ , I guess. Dark Siders want power and they usually get it…” Izuku winced. “...although not without a cost. Most of them die young or get disfigured somehow.” Izuku continued to fiddle with his glass, but he seemed to be done with it. “The Light side is the exact opposite. They court serenity and absence of emotional attachment. That was one of the biggest things she seemed to struggle with and she wrote about it a lot. I don’t think she was supposed to get married or fall in love, but she did and while I don’t think she ever regretted it she never quite came to terms with it either. To hear her describe things, a purely Light-affiliated Force Adept is an aesthetic meditating on a mountain somewhere totally unattached and disinterested in the rest of the world; _thought without action over action without thought_ , or something like that.” Izuku wrinkled his nose at the idea. “I want to be part of the light side, but maybe not that light.” 

Put like that, Hizashi didn’t want him to be that light either. That sounded like a terrible way to live. 

“So your father can lift things with his mind and project himself over long distances. What else can you two do?”

Izuku ran a finger along the rim of his glass, watching beads of condensation merge under his fingertip and slip down the side of it. “I can read minds a little; mostly just obvious emotions and the occasional sensory image. Dad might be able to do more since he’s less worried about hurting people. He can use the Force to influence people and make him do what he wants. He can make himself faster and more agile. We don’t have any guides for the Dark abilities, but they’re supposed to be pretty intuitive. I saw him use the Force to choke Kacchan when Kacchan recognized him. It’s why I did ...well, what I did. You can get visions through the Force too. It’s a rarer ability and they’re not always reliable. My grandmother called them signposts and said they don’t always point in the right direction.”

This was getting heavier by the minute and the person Hizashi had originally dismissed as a mid-tier villain at best was shaping up to be a _much_ bigger threat.

“We’re going to have to be very careful with what we tell the investigative team.” Hizashi sighed. “They’ll need to know, but ...I can see why you hesitated to tell us, kiddo. That’s a lot.”

‘A lot’ was an understatement. Hizashi had made the conscious decision to not think about a lot of what he’d just heard although he kept coming back to Izuku’s voice saying ‘I can read minds a little.’ 

The thing was, he believed it. It explained _a lot_ about Izuku; the way he mirrored people’s moods, how he would sometimes walk into a room with them then turn right around and leave for no obvious reason, and the way occasionally watched them like they were books in an alien language he was trying to decipher. 

They had a psychic teenager. It would be cool if he weren’t so scared for the kid.

They were going to have to loop Nedzu into this and Hizashi was not looking forward to Shouta’s terrible reaction. If they didn’t handle things exactly right then the police would put Izuku back into detention and they might not _ever_ let him out until he disappeared into a lab somewhere. 

“Don’t say it.” Shouta glared at him, accurately guessing the direction Hizashi’s thoughts were headed in.

“He’s smarter than all of us and he’s on our side.” Hizashi defended himself. “We need a plan.”

“Debatable.” Shouta grumbled into his beer Hizashi rolled his eyes.

Sooner was better than later in his opinion and he got up to go text Nedzu for a meeting.

* * *

Izuku was dreaming.

He knew he was dreaming because he was laying on the tatami-lined floor of an old Minka-style house he’d never been in before with the sliding walls open to a small fenced in yard with a pond. He was on his side with his head cushioned in his grandmother’s lap. Outside it was summer and the air was heavy with the drone of cicadas.

Even in his dream, Izuku’s eyes were heavy and sleep pulled at him as he drowsed in and out of a shallow catnap.

Obaasan was winding thread. He caught sight of it every now and then as a glittering strand of it dangled in front of his eyes. It was too thin to be yarn. Embroidery thread, maybe? 

“I’m proud of you.” She said, apropos of nothing. “You made a hard choice even though you were scared.”

“Was it the right one?” Izuku asked. 

“No one can know that until later.” Obasaan paused in her winding to pet his hair. “I think so.”

“I miss you.” Izuku squeezed his eyes shut. “Nothing’s been the same since you left.”

“I know and I’m sorry you were left to deal with it alone.” He felt her start to gather her thread again. “You don’t have to do that anymore. This is going to be a difficult time for you going forward, Izuku. You will be tested and tempted by the Dark side. You have allies. Trust in them.”

“What if they get hurt?” He asked. “Because of me?”

“What if you get hurt because of them?” She countered. “You would forgive them without a moment’s hesitation. Hurting and being hurt is part of living with other people. You can’t stop it or avoid it. All you can do is make the parts in between worthwhile.”

She had a hefty loop of her thread by that point and twisted it into a smart little skein.

Izuku had another question. “Why did he do it?” He didn’t specify who ‘he’ was and Obasaan didn’t make him clarify.

She sat quietly for a moment, looking down at the skein in her lap. “Sometimes…” She said after a while. “...we do the worst things for what we believe to be the best reasons.”

The skein of thread glittered in the afternoon sun as she held it up and reached for a pair of scissors. The skein wasn’t done. Thread hung out of it from either end, pulled taught, and the ends vanished out of Izuku’s sight. Something tugged deep in his chest and he saw the thread start to blush an angry red rushing in from where it disappeared out of the room.

“Try to sleep some more, Izuku.” Obaasan brushed his hair away from his face. “Tomorrow is a new day.”

She cut the thread.

Izuku sat bolt upright in his little cot with a hoarse grunt and one hand clutching at his shirt. The room was dark and he could make out the still shapes of Mic and Aizawa in the bigger bed. He was back at the safehouse. It wasn’t summer. It was early spring.

“Hey.” It was Aizawa, who had cracked open one haggard eyeball in Izuku’s direction. “Everything ok?”

He nodded although no, he was not actually ok. There was a hollowness inside him that he couldn’t put a name to. 

“Just a dream.” Izuku said softly, not sure how loud he could be without waking Mic up. “Just a weird dream.”

Aizawa didn’t reply beyond a tired noise as he closed his eyes again and slid seamlessly back to sleep.

Izuku lay back down, still rubbing fitfully at his chest. Eventually he too nodded off again and when he woke the next morning he did remember his dream, but not what exactly had been so upsetting about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo, Izuku's ancestor was a survivor of a Jedi purge who ran to the darkest corner of space she could find and wound up on Earth. We can assume Earth is a lost colony world or something and forgot their own history. Humans turn up in a lot of weird places in the Star Wars universe. 
> 
> 'Which purge' some of you in the know might ask? The answer is the First Jedi Purge, not the result of Order 66. Remember, I'm an Old Republic girl. :)
> 
> Also, yes. Grandma is a Force ghost.


	6. Part Six

Nedzu floated through the tac room above the kotatsu looking beatific in his utter and complete happiness.

“Can you turn me upside down, please?” He asked Izuku, who obliged. 

“Marvelous!” The rodent smiled. “How long can you keep this up?”

“However long I can focus.” Izuku replied. “I’m getting better, but if I get startled then I might drop you.”

He turned Nedzu right side up again. 

“I have _many_ questions for you, although I think Aizawa-kun is losing patience with us.” Nedzu pointed at one of the free cushions. “Please set me down. Thank you.”

Shouta had lost what patience he had an hour ago. Nedzu had somehow let himself into the safehouse early in the morning before anyone was up. Shouta had been the one to find him in the kitchen making tea when he’d staggered out of the bedroom around 6 AM. Hizashi swore that he hadn’t given their employer the safehouse address yet to prevent that exact situation, but as usual it hadn’t helped.

Nedzu settled himself at the kotatsu. “I am pleased to inform you, Midoriya-kun, that you do have a quirk.” He announced.

Izuku’s expression turned pinched and Shouta braced himself for another agonizing discussion of quirk genetics. “Ah, sir, I really…”

“No, no.” Nedzu shook his head. “I understood your explanation before and I do agree with you. You do not have the same genetic condition that I or your guardians have. However, quirks are still poorly understood and even more poorly defined in the legal sense. You possess a superhuman ability _therefore_ , according to the laws of this country, you have a quirk and can say so without lying.” He paused and something about his inhuman expression gentled. “You understand, yes? You have not lied to anyone here or let them believe anything that was untrue. _You have a quirk.”_

“O-oh.” Izuku sat back, looking stunned and a little confused. “I… I’m not a healer, though. I’m not _just_ a healer.” He corrected himself.

“Correct, but I do not recall having asked you to define your ability.” Nedzu replied. “I recall making assumptions given what I knew of you. This is a very important distinction, Midoriya-kun. You cannot hold yourself responsible for other people’s conjecture. You are not obligated to answer questions nobody asked. I want you to bear that in mind from now on. It will be important going forward. Heroes face intense public scrutiny. One of the skills you need to acquire in order to protect your privacy is the art of answering a question without answering it at all.”

“How do you define a quirk like that?” Hizashi looked up from his laptop. He’d been bent over his email working out how to cover or reschedule his engagements for the upcoming week. They were all confined to the safehouse for now. His radio show and podcast would be all right. He recorded them a few episodes ahead to keep his heroic work from interfering with the broadcasting schedule. Teaching was a thornier problem. Hizashi taught more classes than Shouta did and Shouta was his primary substitute in times of emergency. Nemuri was covering them both and not at all happy about it.

“Energy manipulation.” Nedzu nodded to himself. “The best lies are really just the truth in a trenchcoat. Everything in the universe is made of matter and energy. That is what makes it such a versatile and powerful quirk. Getting him re-evaluated will be the real trial, but I expect our dear friend All Might would be willing to bring his influence to bear. If not…” His eyes glittered like shiny black marbled. “...then I will take care of the matter in my own way. Have no fear.” 

The principal tapped his paw pads on the table for a moment, chewing over a thought.

“I do not think I need to say it, but I feel that I must.” He met the eyes of everyone in the room one at a time. “Midoriya-kun was correct to tell you the true nature of his abilities. He was also correct to keep it a secret. Human society was not kind to the first quirk users. You hear stories of the glowing baby, but no one remembers her name or what kind of life she lived. We know now that most of the Q-1 generation in Japan were institutionalized their entire lives although not where or in what conditions. Q-2 was harder to contain and most of the human population was converted in Q-3 so humans forget what it was like for those who came first. My own history doesn’t suggest that our modern day society would be any kinder. As far as anyone outside this room is concerned, Midoriya-kun is a quirked individual who has a particular familial religious tradition.”

The truth in a trenchcoat. Of course.

“That’s fine.” Shouta hadn’t had any intentions of telling to begin with. “Someone will need to talk to All Might.”

“I’ll handle that.” Nedzu promised. His attention had been diverted by the box of journals, which was peeking out from underneath the kotatsu. “Are these the documents you mentioned?” He asked Izuku who nodded. “There’s so many. How far do they go back?”

“About nine generations.” Izuku leaned over to pull out the box, unaware of the silence that had dropped over the room. He picked out one of the books kept in an archival case. It was a paper-covered journal with a sewn spine. “This is the oldest one. It starts in 1910.”

1910; that was a full century before the earliest suspected quirk appeared. Izuku had said his ancestor had been a grown woman at that point and part of an official cloister. Force users _pre-dated_ quirks and the kid had evidence just sitting in a cardboard box under the table.

Izuku looked up, eyes wide, and Shouta abruptly remembered that he could read other people’s emotions.

“Don’t worry about it, Midoriya-kun. We were just startled.” Nedzu reassured the boy. “I would like an opportunity to read those journals. Not here, I think, or now. Perhaps in the rare book room on campus. Hmmm, that’s a very old manuscript and it’s very bright in here. Perhaps you should put it away.” His whiskers had begun to tremble, which was about as much warning as anyone got when Nedzu thought an old book was in danger.

They’d have to be very careful with those journals from now on or they were going to disappear into the fortified security vault Nedzu called his ‘rare book room.’

“Yeah, I should.” Izuku agreed, unaware that he was going to have to guard his family heirlooms with his life from that moment forward. He carefully re-sealed the book inside its case and put it away. Shouta got up and took the box back into the bedroom to hide it, ignoring Nedzu’s sad look of betrayal.

He missed the next part of the conversation, but Izuku had a pile of machine parts out on the table when he got back. 

“...the cylindrical lenses are the problem.” He was saying. “I had to grind them myself and they’re not shaping the beam correctly. Also I think the power pack got damaged. It’s making a noise.”

“Engineering is not one of my passions, but Power Loader does offer workshop time by appointment to students outside the Support course. Supervised, of course, but I suspect that is what you need.” Nedzu hmmmed. “Would you mind reassembling it, please?”

If Shouta had been paying attention, the expression on his husband’s face would have warned him about what was coming. 

Izuku held up both hands and frowned in concentration. The indiscriminate pile of metal pieces rose up into the air and began to fit themselves together. The heart of the contraption was a green crystal and what Shouta assumed were the ‘cylindrical lenses’ they’d been talking about. When assembled, the whatever-it-was looked a bit like a plain metal flashlight with a carabiner on the end.

The flashlight thing fell into Izuku’s open palm and he pointed the fat end away from the table. A hissing, sputtering yet undeniable _stable_ green laser blade shot out from the handle.

“See?” Izuku winced at the high pitched wine the laser made. “That’s not the right sound.” He said as he powered it down. 

Hizashi’s jaw was practically on the ground when Shouta checked to make sure he hadn’t just experienced a stress hallucination or something. No, Hizashi had seen it too.

At least he knew now how the kid had fought off his father at the USJ; with a _laser beam weapon_. He was really only surprised at this point that the thing wasn’t in an evidence locker getting ready to ‘disappear.’ 

For a second, Shouta considered turning around and going back into the bedroom, climbing into the bed, and pulling the covers over his head.

 _You brought home a psychic teenager with a working laser sword._ He signed waspishly at his gobsmacked spouse. _I pick the next one._

 _Let’s get this one properly into school first_ . Hizashi signed back with trembling hands. _Then we’ll talk about getting him a sibling._

Only then did he realize that neither of them were thinking of a subsequent child. He’d started the conversation thinking of an _additional_ one.

 _Oh fuck me._ Shouta thought as he sat down heavily on his ass.

Izuku and Nedzu were still talking about micro reactors or something so for once neither of them noticed his on-going melt down. 

All this time he’d been worried about _Hizashi_ getting attached and when he should have been worrying about _himself_.

It had been one thing after another since Izuku had come into their lives. He was complicated, wary, and pathologically self-sufficient to the point where he acted like anyone trying to help him was an alien. He’d lived with them for eight fraught days and Shouta was pretty sure he was going to fight anyone who tried to come for him including the kid’s own mother. 

Articulating that through sign or speech felt impossible. 

Instead he just signed, _Problem Child is going to need a new sign name then. Knowing us, we’ll end up with another one just like him._

* * *

Unlike his classmates, Shinsou Hitoshi did not have any strong feelings about day duty and that was probably why he usually ended up with it more often than most. It got him out of cleaning and people tended to not talk back if he was the one doing announcements so it wasn’t so bad.

Thirteen wasn’t at their desk when Hitoshi got to the staff room, which wasn’t unusual.

What was unusual was the kid sitting in the empty desk to the left of Thirteen’s who was bent over an open math book and muttering to himself about quadratics.

“Hey.” Shinsou noted and did not react to the way the kid froze and stared at him with wide panicked green eyes. Great, word about his quirk was spreading. That was _exactly_ what he needed right before the Sports Festival; a steeper difficulty curve. “Are you going to be there for a while?”

The kid’s eyes dipped down to Hitoshi’s tie and his shoulders slumped. “Oh, you’re in Gen Ed!” He nodded and did not elaborate on why that made Hitoshi suddenly _not_ scary. Hitoshi wasn’t _mad_ about it. It was a refreshing change, but he was also confused. “Yes. Is that the attendance book for Thirteen’s homeroom class? I’ll let them know you dropped it off.”

Hitoshi took a look at the green-haired kid’s tie and was annoyed to find he wasn’t wearing one. Usually that kind of blatant dress code nonconformity was a sure sign of a Hero program student, but Hitoshi had been doing his due diligence on those assholes. Greenie wasn’t one of them.

“I don’t recognize you.” Hitoshi winced. He probably could have phrased that worse, but it would have been hard and he realized it as soon as the words left his mouth. He didn’t even really know what he was trying to do. He hadn’t come to UA to make friends and usually he made sure people _knew_ that. Usually _he_ knew that.

“I’m sort of in between programs right now.” The kid laughed nervously. Everything about him was nervous, like a quivering bunny facing down a cat. He still offered his hand. Brave bunny. “Midoriya Izuku.”

Hitoshi took it and wondered what the hell was wrong with him. “Shinsou Hitoshi.”

They stared at each other, equally at sea once they’d exhausted the standard greetings script. 

Midoriya, bless him, offered Hitoshi an escape route before he could come up with one himself. “I-it was nice meeting you!” Then he ruined it by adding, “Maybe we’ll see each other around?” He backed it up with a hopeful smile, like he was asking for the moon instead of basic courtesy and he knew it.

“Maybe.” Hitoshi agreed, acknowledging that if they ever did then he was going to have to stop and make painful conversation again at least once. He’d figured out his problem by that point. Midoriya was _cute_ ; not ‘cute boy’ cute, but instead he had all the most fatal qualities of a sad kitten in a box by the road _in the rain._

If Hitoshi had a weakness - _and he didn’t_ \- then it might have been small, sad, abandoned things with fluffy fur and hopeful eyes. There was a reason why nearly everything he made at his secret part time job that didn’t go into savings or train tickets usually got eaten up at the cat cafe by his house. 

Hitoshi backed up with a hurried ‘bye’ and made a break for it. He was already feeding three strays and couldn’t afford another one. Unfortunately, he didn’t get far before someone, Snipe-sensei, caught him.

“Hold up there a moment, partner.” Snipe was one of the more easy-going teachers, which Hitoshi supposed he had to be. Snipe’s quirk wasn’t good for a lot other than killing people with guns or maiming them so they couldn’t run away. Hitoshi was really familiar with the ways you needed to edit yourself for public consumption when you had a frightening quirk. ‘Vaguely ridiculous steampunk cowpoke’ wasn’t the worst direction Snipe could have chosen. “I need a word, if you don’t mind.”

Hitoshi nodded, wondering where this was going.

“That boy you were talking to just now ain’t really here.” Snipe’s voice was quiet and not unkind, but something about it made Hitoshi’s hackles rise up all the same. He’d heard adults talk about him when they thought he wasn’t around and they usually sounded like that. “No one’ll get mad if you mosey by for a chat again later, but until his parents say otherwise he’s not here and ain’t no one seen a UA student matching his description. Got it?”

“Understood, sir.” Hitoshi replied, coolly. 

No wonder the kid was so painfully keen for attention if this was what happened whenever he said ‘hello’ to someone. It didn’t matter, of course. Hitoshi was feeling sane again after having escaped those big sad eyes and had recalled his priorities. Normal kids with normal quirks had time for distractions like friends and thankless acts of kindness. Hitoshi had known going in that his time at UA was going to be spent working twice as hard for half the rewards other people got. The kid was going to have to handle his situation on his own.

He remembered that right up until the point later when he got drafted by Ectoplasm to drop a bunch of reference material off in the staff room. Midoriya was still in there and scribbling in a different workbook. He didn’t notice Hitoshi that time, but Hitoshi couldn’t help but keep one curious eye on him the whole time.

He was there again the next day when Hitoshi dropped off the attendance book. Thirteen was there to receive it that time, but Midoriya gave him a happy little wave that Hitoshi tried to return without looking like he wanted to die. He must have done, because he got a ten million watt smile in return and Hitoshi dearly wanted to know what that kid’s life had been like to make him so grateful for so little.

It wasn’t going to last, he reminded himself. Eventually Midoriya would get out of lockdown and odds were he’d end up in Gen Ed. From there it was only a matter of time before someone clued him in and by then even Midoriya wouldn’t be desperate enough to want Hitoshi as a friend.

Well, if Hitoshi got his way he’d be in Heroics by then so it didn’t matter. They weren’t going to be classmates no matter what. 

He just had to remember that.

Hitoshi still waved back the next time he saw Midoriya because he wasn’t a _complete_ monster.

They got into a little pattern that was sort of like friendship if you squinted and gave points for minimal effort. It was enough for Hitoshi to notice when Midoriya stopped showing up. He didn’t think much of it the first day. The second day of no Midoriya had his attention and by the end of day three he was absolutely disgusted with himself because he knew he was going to break and ask a teacher if it went on any longer.

Fortunately, Midoriya was back by the fourth day and looking like he hadn’t slept at all while he was gone. He must have been sick. It was sad to be relieved over that, but Hitoshi had been in the foster system long enough to see a lot of his foster siblings and acquaintances just get moved one day with no forwarding address.

Thirteen was away from his desk again so there was nothing to stop or save him from small talk when he went to put the class book down on his teacher’s desk. Midoriya looked up with a sleepy smile at his approach.

“Hi again.” He said.

Hitoshi, of course, opened his mouth to say something like ‘hope you’re feeling better’ and “You look like shit” fell out instead. _Good job, Tosh._

“I _feel_ like it.” Midoriya agreed and caught himself on a yawn. “I’ve been having to sleep on the floor in my guardians’ bedroom and they both snore. I’m getting used to it.” 

“Huh.” Hitoshi considered his own curiosity and decided that yes, he did actually want to know. “Not sick?”

Midoriya shook his head. “Nah, villain stuff happened and we had to go to a hotel.”

That could mean anything, but if Midoriya was back in school then it couldn’t be too bad. The poor was probably out in his neighborhood or something. “Do you have headphones?” He asked and clarified when Midoriya cocked his head in confusion. “Helps with the noise if you can sleep with them on.” Hitoshi couldn’t so had to deal with the interrupted sleep that came with sharing a bedroom with a sleep talker and an eight year old with night terrors.

“No, but I’ll ask my guardians. They might have a set I can borrow.” He beamed. “Thanks, Shinsou! You’re so nice.”

 _Ugh_. Hitoshi could feel his soul shrivelling up into a little husk. “Don’t let it get around.” He said instead of asking Midoriya if he was out of his adorable little mind. He probably was. Cute things were usually deranged. It made sense.

“Sorry to interrupt, little listeners.” Present Mic leaned into the staff room from out in the hall. He caught Midoriya’s eye. “We’re moving things to Gym 3 after school today.” He paused, eying Hitoshi like he was trying to place a face. Maybe he was. Present Mic didn’t teach any of his classes except for a combined english class, which was in one of the giant lecture halls and sat eighty Gen Ed students. “Your friend is welcome too!”

Hitoshi looked askance at Midoriya.

“It’s some extra curricular stuff.” He explained. “Basically one of the teachers gets to beat on me for an hour.”

Personal training from a teacher at UA right before the most critical competition of his life so far? Hitoshi didn’t even think about it. It might interfere with his curfew, but he’d put up with more risk for smaller rewards. Even better, it sounded like Present Mic would be there. He had a vocal quirk and might have pointers on how to train it.

“I’ll be there.” He promised and resisted the urge to shield his eyes when Midoriya reacted like _he_ was the one doing somebody a favor instead of the other way around.

“It’ll be great, I promise!” He paused, reconsidered, and rephrased. “Well, actually it’s probably going to hurt a lot. It’s okay, though. Recovery Girl always swings by after.”

“Oh, good.” Hitoshi said faintly and wondered if he should have asked questions after all. “Glad to hear it.”

* * *

Hizashi grabbed Izuku’s shoulders as soon as the juvenile Shouta clone left to go back to class. _“Izuku.”_ He hissed with urgency. “Did you see that?”

“You haven’t seen him smile yet.” He replied because Izuku _got_ him. “The resemblance gets even _more_ uncanny.”

“This is the best thing ever.” Hizashi sighed. He kind of wished he’d gotten a picture, but Shinsou was a UA student. He’d have another opportunity. “So, you made a friend?”

“Sort of?” Izuku shrugged. “We say ‘hi’, but haven’t talked much; not a lot of opportunity.”

 _Oh._ Maybe Hizashi shouldn’t have invited him to sparring practice in that case. Izuku had seemed happy about it though, so maybe it would be okay.

He hadn’t missed the way Izuku pined in his own repressed way after the sound of young voices in the hall. Circumstances hadn’t really been ideal to set him up with a playdate or something with a trustworthy kid his own age, but Snipe had mentioned Shinsou to Shouta the first time the boys had made contact and had had good things to say about him that were supported later by Thirteen. 

“Well, I’ve got some other good news for you.” Hizashi grinned. “I just heard back from Detective Tsukauchi. _Someone_ is off house arrest.”

“Really?” Izuku’s enthusiasm turned pensive. “...but I still am though, until the house is fixed up and Aizawa is sure that dad doesn’t have our address.”

“Yeah, a little.” Hizashi admitted. “Still, it does mean you don’t need to stay in the staff room all the time. We’d like it if you stayed indoors and away from exposed areas. Paparazzi start sending drones up to the windows around this time of year to get candids of the students before the Sports Festival, but you can use the library or the atrium to work on your projects and…” He jostled Izuku with his elbow. “...if you wanted to eat lunch with some nice young people or go to the cafeteria then you can do that too.”

“Is that going to be ok?” Izuku tugged at his sleeves. “What if I run into those 1-A kids?”

“They’ll probably try and make friends.” Hizashi didn’t have quite the same contact with that group as Shouta, but he knew that Kirishima asked about ‘the USJ kid’ periodically and was pretty hangdog about it when his teacher shut him down. The rest of them, save two, were a bunch of friendly puppies when you got right down to it and Izuku was friend-shaped; or chew-toy-shaped. Hizashi wasn’t sure there was a difference when it came to juvenile heroes, when you really got down to it. “Unless it’s Monoma-kun then make a break for it.”

The way things were shaping up, Monoma was looking to get transferred out of 1-A. He’d alienated the entire class early on by making fun of Kaminari after the kid overloaded himself during a class exercise and hadn’t ever come back from it. Rather than apologizing, he’d doubled down on his self-importance. Fortunately one of Kan’s kids had had to take a deferment after his quirk mutated on him so there was room to move Monoma into a new setting and see if he’d learned anything from his massive social fuck up. Shouta wasn’t quite ready to give up on him at any rate. That didn’t mean Izuku needed to put up with him. 

“I was thinking more like Kaachan.”

Hizashi didn’t have an easy answer for that. Bakugo was prickly at the best of times, but he’d been something else entirely on those rare occasions when ‘the USJ kid’ came up in conversation and Hizashi was around to overhear it. He didn’t actually want Izuku to have to deal with that either, but he was going to have to at some point.

He’d texted with Bakugo’s mother somewhat and she had no more insight into the matter than he did and hadn’t had any luck trying to talk to her son about it. Izuku wasn’t clear for visitors yet, but neither of them were ready to reintroduce the boys anyway until they were positive Bakugo wouldn’t puff up like a betta fish at the mere sight of Izuku. 

“I’d say give him space if you see him in the halls.” Hizashi decided.

Izuku made a face and, yeah, maybe that _was_ overly optimistic.

* * *

Gym C was not one that Hitoshi had ever been in. Gen Ed got standard physical education so they didn’t need all the sparring rings or the medical corner or whatever those deactivated robots over in the corner were for. They _were_ deactivated, right?

Midoriya perked up in the middle of his stretches and waved at him as Hitoshi set one cautious foot inside the gym. “Shinsou, hi!”

Hitoshi waved back, but his attention was on the assembled teachers. Mic-sensei was there, but also the homeroom teacher for 1-A. Shinsou knew about him sort of, inasmuch as anyone in the school did. He was one of the underground heroes, which explained why he had a second job.

Aizawa-sensei turned to give him a bored once over. “You’re already changed, good. Go warm up with Midoriya. Do you do any martial arts?”

“I can throw a punch?” Hitoshi didn’t really have the budget for external training or anyone to practice with. He’d been hoping that was something he’d be able to pick up in the hero classes.

“It’s a start.” Aizawa-sensei allowed. “Talk to me about your quirk while you warm up.”

Hitoshi couldn’t help it. He gave Midoriya a cautious look and Aizawa-sensei just snorted.

“Don’t worry about him.” He said. “Worry about me.”

Easy for him to say. He had his pro license already. Getting it had probably never even been in question.

“Are you worried about the Sports Festival?” Midorya guessed with uncanny accuracy. “I’m not competing so you can talk freely around me.”

That… “Why the hell not?” Hitoshi asked before he could stop himself. _Everybody_ competed whether they wanted to advance to the hero course or not. It was all anyone could talk about.

“Oh, um.” Midoriya turned red from his collar to his hairline. “I’m not really enrolled here yet. I have a conditional acceptance, but I won’t be allowed to try out for a program until after the Sports Festival.”

He was going to get admitted, that was clear enough. He had a full set of uniforms, school shoes, and the personal attention of two teachers after hours. Hitoshi hadn’t asked his foster parents what his uniforms cost because he hadn’t wanted to know and there was a good chance he’d be forced to reimburse them, but even regular school uniforms were expensive enough that you wouldn’t spend the money on anything less than a sure thing. Maybe he was a rich kid, but Hitoshi didn’t think so. He was probably one of those legacy cases who got rammed through the vocational system fast and on the down low so that the media didn’t ruin their career before they even got to debut.

Must be nice having the adults on your side, but Midoriya hadn’t been a douche about it so Hitoshi could overlook the disparity in their levels of privilege. Especially when Midoriya seemed willing to give him a hand up.

“My quirk is ‘Brainwash’.” It felt weird talking about it to people. He hadn’t had to explain his quirk in ages. People usually found out long before it came up in conversation. “If I ask you a question and you answer then I can give you orders.”

“Oh, good one!” Midoriya propped himself up on his elbows from where he was folded forward at the hips in the splits. “That’ll be useful!”

“W-what?” Hitoshi was torn between staring at the other boy’s idea of a casual warm up and boggling at his unexpected response.

“You’d be _great_ at villain apprehension...” Midoriya continued undaunted and unaware of the effect his words were having on Hitoshi as he warmed up to his topic. “...or rescue, if that’s what you want to do. It’d be a really good quirk for rescue missions. I was talking to this lifeguard once and she told me that drowning victims are more dangerous than the water. That’s why so much rescue doctrine involves staying out of arm’s reach of the victims so they don’t latch onto you.”

“Less chatting and more stretching, little listeners!” Mic called out from whatever he was doing on the other side of the gym. It looked like yoga on steroids.

Hitoshi was glad for the break because his ears were burning. People never liked his quirk, not even people who’d been his friends before they found out about his ‘villainous’ ability. They never ever took it in stride like _that_. Highschool had been better than middle school so far, but he’d kept himself to himself in anticipation of the Sports Festival so no one had ever really gotten a chance to call him nasty names or corner him after class --although some had tried.

Once they were done warming up, Mic-sensei showed them both some throws and Hitoshi kind of got into it until Aizawa-sensei called a halt for ‘tag.’

“You’re going to stay with me, little listener.” Mic-sensei held him back. “I’ve got some more moves I’d like to run you through that’ll probably be more useful in the Festival for you.” He cocked his head when Hitoshi turned to stare at him. “You are aiming for one of the transfer slots, right?”

“Isn’t everybody?” 

Mic shrugged. “In theory.” He smiled. “You’d be surprised. There’s a difference between the students with vague aspirations and the ones with a concrete plan. Which one are you?”

“I guess you’ll know when you see me on the podium.” Hitoshi bit back, however it was hard to offend Present Mic. He just grinned and gave Hitoshi the finger-guns. 

“I guess I will!” He laughed and then rolled his shoulders as that big movie-star smile turned into something a little more frightening. “Try and block me for a bit so I can see what we have to work with.”

Mic-sensei did not _look_ like the type of person who did Muay Thai, but he also didn’t look strong enough for those crazy yoga poses he’d been doing so what did Hitoshi know? He was a patient teacher and pretty soon Hitoshi was working on his first kick. It was probably not how most people got started, but Mic had thoughts about what moves were most useful for a cornered hero. 

That was great, but Hitoshi’s ability to focus on what he was doing was shot dead the first time Aizawa-sensei swung overhead on his scarves.

“Woah.” He breathed and really started to pay attention to what the other pair in the gym were going. It was literally tag, but with just two participants and Aizawa-sensei was evidently ‘it.’ The sturdy exposed roof beams of Gym 3 explained why they’d picked it for practice. The scarves made Aizawa-sensei incredibly mobile, although Midoriya was no slouch either. He wasn’t nearly as spry as their teacher and Hitoshi had the sense that Aizawa-sensei wasn’t really pushing himself either, but Midoriya had a sort of perfect situational awareness that let him know where Aizawa-sensei was coming from every time.

He hadn’t thought to ask what Midoriya’s quirk was, but apparently he knew how to get the most out of it. Perception quirks were pretty common, but those people didn’t often go into heroics. Hitoshi had a little more respect for Midoriya if that was the case. That would be almost as tough a row to hoe as his own.

His eyes kept getting pulled back to Aizawa-sensei though. That looked _amazing_ ; practically like flying.

“Ha, they’re crazy. I know.” Mic didn’t seem offended, but he did clap Hitoshi on the shoulder and say: “All right, back to it.”

Hitoshi dragged himself out of the gym much later that evening starving hungry and filthy, but feeling complete for the first time in a long time. He was as close to his dream as he’d ever been; so close he could taste it in the air.

Midoriya shared a protein bar from his bag when they got to the locker rooms to sluice off and change.

“Hey.” Hitoshi waited until Midoriya was out of the shower and in some pants before asking his question. “What’s your story?”

He’d been assuming a lot up until that point and the hypocrisy of that had just gotten to him. 

Midoriya blinked at him. “Oh, I assumed you knew.” Hitoshi’s face must have done a thing because he raced to explain with excruciating earnesty. “I heard Snipe stop you in the hall that time and I thought you might Google me or something. You were quiet after that so I assumed you had and it was bad.”

Hitoshi slid his phone out of his pocket. “Want me to?”

“Um.” Midoriya wet his lips and looked pale. “Not really. I don’t think I’m ready to know.”

Well, that wasn’t alarming at all.

“My dad’s a villain.” Midoriya averted his gaze and pretended to be super involved in digging his shirt out of his locker. “He wanted me to be one too. He’s still at large. That’s why I have to be supervised all the time.”

Hitoshi was suddenly very glad he hadn’t voiced anything he’d thought for the past week. ‘Villain stuff’, huh? That had been the understatement of the year. No wonder he’d thought Hitoshi’s quirk was no big deal. The kids who gave Hitoshi crap weren’t actually scared of him. They knew on some level he wasn’t a real villain otherwise they wouldn’t make themselves into targets the way they did. Midoriya, though, villainy wasn’t some impersonal abstraction for him. He’d met and lived with the real thing.

Weirdly, that made Hitoshi feel better. He mistrusted baseless goodwill because he knew how flimsy it was, but this made sense and made Midoriya’s easy approval of him as a potential hero all the more precious. 

“That’s why you’re between schools?”

“Yeah, my old highschool found out what happened and expelled me. My guardians work here and Nedzu is giving me a chance.” He shrugged. “That’s why I can’t compete in the Sports Festival; too much media exposure.”

“So, UA is trying to... what? Rehabilitate you?” Hitoshi asked, trying to picture Midoriya as a villain and failing. He could barely see Midoriya as a hero; one of the kid-friendly rescue ones, maybe?

“Hah!” Midoriya unclenched enough to bark out a laugh. “Maybe! I didn’t actually know about the villainy stuff before he tried to make me debut. He kept it together for a long time. So… um, are we okay?” He gulped. “I won’t be upset if we aren’t okay.” 

That was such an incredible lie that Hitoshi actually respected him for making the attempt.

“Most people I know have been waiting for me to become a villain since I was six.” Hitoshi’s mouth tasted sour just talking about it. “I’d have to be some kind of hypocrite to treat you the same way.”

Midoriya winced. “No, you wouldn’t be.” He twisted his shirt in his hands. “It sounds like you never actually hurt anyone.”

Why did that make it sound like Midoriya had?

Then again, Hitoshi knew an awful lot about being forced into situations out of his control. No one had gotten physical with him since his last growth spurt or after he got accepted to UA, but not every group home he’d lived in had been safe or welcoming. He’d done things he wasn’t proud of either and he’d just been dealing with garden variety quirk bigots. 

“Did you want to?” He asked. “Or did you need to?” It was an important distinction. 

Midoriya gave him a weird look. “I… don’t know.” He turned away again. “My dad was part of the USJ assault team. He took me with him to h-hurt somebody. I hurt him instead. I had to, but I was mad at him too for putting me into that situation.”

Hitoshi boggled at that revelation. He’d heard some stuff about the villain attack on 1-A, although he hadn’t taken it personally the way some people seemed to. He had plans to use it to rattle their cage a bit, of course, but he wasn’t upset that they’d gotten some attention from the media over what had been an objectively awful experience. What little he had heard - assuming it was true- had sounded terrifying. He still wanted into Heroics, but the USJ incident had made him think about it long and hard. 

“If you’re here then other people must have already told you you made the right choice.” Hitoshi started rooting in his bag for his own clothes. Changing back into his uniform wasn’t really ideal, but if he got another invitation to spar then he’d bring something casual and clean to change into after.

He wasn’t brave enough to ask if he was invited to future sessions. 

“Maybe.” Midoriya pulled on his shirt, which was a beautiful monstrosity that read CASUAL across the chest. “D-do you want to exchange numbers?”

The segue threw Hitoshi a bit. “Uh, sure.” He handed Midoriya his unlocked phone. “I don’t always answer texts right away.”

“Oh, me neither.” Midoriya’s pocket dinged as he texted himself. He handed the phone back. “Still, I can let you know where we’re training from now on if you want to join in.”

Hitoshi’s swallowed down on a sudden lump in his throat. His chest felt uncomfortably tight and he tried to sound something like normal when he replied. “Thanks. I’d like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there's a bit of advice among professional writers. "Kill your darlings."
> 
> Darlings are usually unnecessary characters, story lines, or what have you. Upon re-reading this, Shinsou is a total Darling in this fic and I don't care. One of the best parts of fanfic, in my humble opinion, is the opportunity to *embrace* your darlings. 
> 
> So, here you go. Izuku gets a bro and maybe, eventually, a brother.


	7. Part Seven

Shinsou had lied about being an inconsistent texter, it turned out. 

What he’d apparently meant was that he didn’t text during  _ class _ , which Izuku hadn’t realized was a problem? He hadn’t really had anyone to text with other than his mom or Mic before so he didn’t know if that was something that had really needed to come with a warning. 

Mic could, would, and did text during classes; his  _ own _ classes no less. He sent entire novels, selfies, and terrible freestyle raps. He sent funny pictures of Aizawa napping in the hall in his sleeping bag or looking like death as he stared out a window. Meanwhile his mom had to go ages between messages when she had to fit everything she wanted to say fit into a few hours often in the dead of night, so Izuku didn’t have a great sense for how people his own age talked to each other if it didn’t involve violence.

If Shinsou was any indicator, they seemed to communicate entirely in sass and cat pictures. He mostly texted at night, but had started messaging Izuku during breaks as well. 

Izuku was trying to get better at starting conversations back, but it was slow going. At the moment, he was staring at a message draft and trying to muster the courage to hit ‘send.’

After a week they were finally free to leave the BoltHole and Mic had celebrated their return to the house by hiding all the lunch boxes in the kitchen. Izuku had a ridiculous amount of lunch money in his pocket instead and enough butterflies in his stomach that he probably didn’t need to eat anyway.

His phone lit up with a text and Izuku bobbled it a couple of times, managing not to drop it. 

**Shinsou** : Just threw down the gauntlet at 1-A. 

Izuku closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was apparently a  _ thing _ for the other classes to swing by the hero course classrooms to talk a little trash in the week leading up to the Sports Festival. In theory it was a way to get the Hero program teachers to pay attention to you during the Festival, but Shinsou already  _ had _ the attention of Aizawa, Mic, Nedzu,  _ and _ Kan-san so there was literally no point for him to go start trouble. 

**Izuku** : Shinsou no.

**Shinsou** : Shinsou  _ yes _ . 

**Izuku** : They’re going to be watching for you now.

**Shinsou** : Good. They should be.

Why were all the people he wanted to be friends with  _ always _ constantly down to fight? Was it him? Was he the problem? Izuku let his head fall down onto the desk in front of him with a thump before something occurred to him.

They were talking already. Maybe he could just  _ ask _ outright? And it wouldn’t be weird?

**Izuku** : Are you busy during lunch? Since you already went and poked the bear.

**Shinsou** : Generally not. Why?

**Izuku** : Mic stole all my lunch boxes. I gotta go to the cafeteria to eat. Will you go with me?

**Shinsou** : Are you paying?

Come to think of it, that was probably  _ why _ Mic had given him twice the amount he could possibly spend on food in an entire week. Treating his friend was a good lure, actually. Shinsou was almost always hungry. He was still growing and sometimes Izuku got phantom growing pains just standing next to him.

**Izuku** : Sure! So you’re coming? I’ll meet you at the top of the stairs outside the staff room.

**Shinsou** : I was joking.

**Izuku** : Too late. No take backs. Get up here.

**Shinsou** : Rude.

Half of Izuku was convinced that Shinsou would leave him waiting, but the lanky teen was already there when he got to their meeting place. 

“Sorry, were you waiting long?” Izuku jogged to close the distance. 

“Nah, I was passing here on my way back from the heroics wing.” Shinsou nodded towards the stairs. “You know where you’re going?”

“Sort of!” Izuku held up his phone with the UA facility map open on it and Shinsou sighed, rubbing his temples. He didn’t actually  _ feel _ annoyed. Izuku was getting a better read on him the more they hung out. Shinsou was almost always tired and irritable, but he wasn’t near as misanthropic as he acted. He liked attention and he liked being helpful, although the latter always came with a whole host of other complicated feelings that probably had to do with his quirk and his future as a hero.

“Follow me then.”

They talked about training as they walked. Shinsou wanted to go into Apprehension like most people and had warmed up a lot to the idea of physical conditioning after being thrown around the mat by Mic during their first session. Izuku was pretty sure it came down to competitiveness. Mic looked like a stiff breeze could knock him over until you were in close quarters with him. 

“Aizawa would probably come up with a plan for you if you asked.” Izuku offered after he’d realized why Shinsou was asking so many questions about his own routine. “He’s already busted me once for not taking my body type into consideration and you look like you’re going to bulk up eventually.”

Shinsou looked and felt unconvinced. “If I was going to ask him about anything it’d be those scarves.” He said instead.

“Why don’t you?”

“Why don’t I ask a pro hero to show me how his unique support item works?” Shinsou scoffed. “Right. Good idea.”

Izuku was pretty sure he’d seen those scarves in the catalog Mic had given him to order training weapons from. “I don’t think they’re special, actually. Aizawa isn’t the only angler type hero I’ve heard of, just the most successful. Trawler in Yokohama does something similar. I think they’re just harder to use than a custom support item.”

“Huh.” Shinsou scratched the back of his neck, looking thoughtful. “You think?”

The cafeteria came into view and Izuku’s tongue glued itself to the top of his mouth. Without meaning to, he grabbed for Shinsou’s sleeve and held on. There were so many people; enough he couldn’t see everyone. The 1-A kids were probably in there and that meant Kacchan was somewhere around.

“...on second thought, maybe I’ll just skip lunch.” He turned and started heading back the way they came, but Shinsou got him by the collar.

“Oh no.” Shinsou gave him that big asshole smile that made him look like a thinner Aizawa who cared about his hair. “You made me come out here. No take backs.”

“Noooo….” Izuku whined as he was dragged -literally dragged- to the ordering kiosk.

At least the food options looked good. He paid for two lunch tickets, dutifully handing one over to Shinsou, and they went to go line up. They were a little late so the queue wasn’t as long as it could have been since the first rush had been cleared. Seeing Lunch Rush in person helped settle Izuku’s mounting anxiety. Not a lot of heroes went into the supply side of disaster relief and it’d been a sad day on the forums when he had had to retire from active duty due to injury, but he seemed happy. 

“You going to be okay to eat?” Shinsou asked as they looked for an open table. He steered them away from a couple that seemed unoccupied, but were apparently the territory of the upperclassmen. “You look like you’re going to vibrate out of your skin.”

“I’m a-always like this.” Izuku pointed at a quiet corner with some big potted plants he could use for cover. “Over there?”

“That’s fine.”

They had been settled for a little bit when Izuku spotted a familiar head of red hair passing by. He slid closer to the big traveller’s palm tree he’d chosen for emergency cover.

Kirishima was talked with great animation to two other kids Izuku didn’t know; a blonde with a streak of black in his hair and a pink girl with a mutagenic type quirk that gave her little corkscrew horns and black sclera with yellow irises. Kacchan followed behind them at a short distance with his shoulders hunched and his hands in his pockets. Whatever they were doing, he didn’t want to be there --but for some reason had come along anyway.

“Problem?” Shinsou asked quietly.

“Maybe.” Izuku dug into his food. He’d thought it was going to taste like sawdust, but his upset stomach was no match for Lunch Rush. “Probably not.”

Kacchan was too busy sulking over something to pay him any mind. He just had to remember that and stay cool. Then they could leave without making a scene. 

Shinsou radiated skepticism. “If you say so.” Then he turned to look in the direction Izuku’s eyes had been locked in. “Huh.” He frowned. “You know Bakugo?”

“Y-yeah. We grew up together.” Izuku swallowed hard. “He’s the guy my dad wanted me to…”

“Oh.  _ Shit _ .” Shinsou put down his fruit sandwich. “Do we need to go?”

“After…” Izuku blinked as Shinsou ate his sandwich in four bites, knocked back his tea, and shoved Izuku’s last rice ball into his face. He choked it down rather than argue so he could say, “..or now. We can go now.”

“I saw that guy during the entrance exam.” Shinsou pushed Izuku in front of him. It took a second, but he realized Shinsou was using his body to block Kacchan’s line of sight on him. “He’s a maniac.”

“He’s not…” Izuku winced as the lie failed to materialize. Kacchan was absolutely a maniac. He had redeeming features, but moderation wasn’t one of them. “...he’s better than he was. I think.”

Kacchan hadn’t been aggressive the last time they saw each other, but Izuku wasn’t in a great space for a Bakugo-style interrogation so he let Shinsou hustle him out of the great mess hall. Unfortunately they had to stop by the trash bins and that’s where things went south. 

They didn’t see Kirishima right away because he was eclipsed by another, bigger student with the Hero tie and a pink, craggy face. They were within a foot of each other when the big guy moved and Izuku’s eyes met Kirishima’s.

Kirishima looked at him with a blank expression that slowly rolled over into delighted recognition and he pointed. “Hey, it’s  _ you!” _ His volume straddled the uneasy divide between ‘Outdoor Voice’ and ‘Present Mic’ so everyone in the immediate vicinity turned and  _ looked _ \--including Bakugo, who had been sitting at a nearby table staring at his phone up until his friend started shouting.

They stared at each other, gobsmacked for a frozen minute until Bakugo stood up so fast his chair fell over backwards with a clatter.

“ _ Deku. _ ” He snarled and ...ok. Whatever detente they’d arrived at was over. Good to know.

Shinsou grabbed him by the arm. “Run!”

Izuku scrambled just to keep his feet under him as Shinsou took off. There was a momentary silence behind them before he heard the familiar bellow of, “GET BACK HERE, NERD!”

_ “Childhood friend, huh?”  _ Shinsou huffed back at him as they sprinted across the atrium.

“I  _ -hah-  _ s-said we grew up  _ -hah- _ together!” Izuku corrected him and tried to remember which evasion techniques had served him best in middle school. Unfortunately, he’d forgotten that the difference between middle school Kacchan and high school Kacchan was a solid month of specialized quirk training.

Their only warning was an explosion before Kacchan vaulted himself overhead and landed in a crouch in the clear spot up ahead like a gargoyle with sparking hands. Izuku bumped into Shinsou’s back, who’d managed to stop before plowing into Kacchan.

“Oh, no you don’t.” He advanced on them.

“Kacchan, are you serious!?” Izuku shouted. “You’re going to get in trouble!”

“I ain’t the one in trouble,  _ ner…” _ He got cut off as Kirishima inserted himself between them. “What the fuck, shitty hair?”

“Woah, guys.” He hadn’t activated his quirk. “Let’s calm down maybe? Fighting your classmates off the practice field isn’t manly.”

“Mind your business, extras!” Kacchan pointed at Izuku. “This shitheel and I are gonna have  _ words.” _

“Can you have them without using your hands?” Kirishima asked, unperturbed. “Cause, bro, I am not confident about that right now.”

Izuku hadn’t tried to read Kacchan in years. He actively avoided it, to be honest. Some people didn’t emote a lot, like Aizawa, but some people emoted four or five times as much as anyone else. Kacchan was in the latter category and touching his mind was often a one-way ticket to migraine city. 

Maybe -and Izuku had to swallow down his nerves- it was time to try because Kacchan’s face was doing a lot and he couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

He gave Kacchan’s mind the barest touch as the other boy stared down his friend. His mind was calmer than when he’d been fourteen, but it was still like trying to read a newspaper in a tornado. He was --shocked? Upset? A little betrayed and below that ran a powerful and constant current of something that was all jagged red edges and exclamation points.

Just like when they were kids, Izuku couldn’t make himself look away. He disengaged himself from Shinsou’s grip. “I think we’re okay.” He held a mental hand close to Kacchan’s tumultuous mind like he was gauging the heat of a fire. “We can talk, Kacchan… right?”

He was aware he sounded like he was talking to an angry dog.

“I’m glad to hear it.” Aizawa said from behind him and they all  _ froze _ . “...but let’s take this elsewhere anyway.”

Aizawa didn’t drag them into the staff room by their ears, but only just. Izuku was the only one who noticed the way he whacked Mic upside the head as they passed by so he suspected that none of them were in all that much trouble.

“ _ Ow… _ ” Mic looked up from his grading, took in the sullen students following his husband and had to take his glasses off. “Oh, boy.” He sighed and signed,  _ Sorry, my fault _ at Izuku.

Izuku awkwardly signed  _ It’s okay _ back. He didn’t have the vocabulary to explain that this had probably been inevitable and putting it off had only made things turn out the way they had.

“Shinsou, you can head back to class.” Aizawa waved him off, but Shinsou didn’t go right away. He stood by Izuku with his jaw locked and his emotions all over the place. “ _ Go. _ He’ll catch you up later, I’m sure.”

Izuku tried to look reassuring, but it fell flat when Kacchan snapped “Who was  _ that _ fucker?” right before Shinsou hit the hallway.

“My friend.” Izuku matched him glare for glare this time, daring him to say something about it. Surprisingly, Kacchan looked away first.

“Whatever.” He muttered. “What are  _ you _ even doing here? What happened to your fancy nerd school?”

“I got kicked out.” Izuku was a little gratified by the rapid gamut of emotions that flickered across Kacchan’s face when he pointed at himself and said, “Villain kid.”

“Knock it off with that crap.” Kacchan grumbled. “...and you, what, broke all your fingers? Can’t dial your phone? The Hag has been losing her shit. That cop in the trenchcoat said you were cleared of suspicion, but your phone was disconnected when she tried to check on you.”

Izuku hadn’t had Kacchan’s phone number in years. Somehow he doubted Kacchan wanted to hear that. He could have  _ gotten _ it if he’d wanted. The truth was he was so used to not talking to Kacchan without invitation that it just hadn’t occurred to him.

“Oh, um… dad disconnected my number and we’ve been laying low.” Izuku took a page from Nedzu’s book and told him a different truth. “We thought he got into the house. I have a new number.”

“So, that guy was really your dad?” Kirishima quailed under the twin glares of Kacchan and Aizawa. “Hey, I don’t have all the backstory!”

“Yeah, he is.” Izuku hurried to explain before Kacchan could go off. “I’m, um, sorry you got involved. I don’t know what he was thinking.”

“That’s good, though, right?” Kirishima asked. “Not understanding the guy doing a murder?”

“I guess.” 

“Touching as this is, class will be starting soon.” Aizawa pointed at Kacchan and Izuku. “You two exchange numbers and keep your interpersonal drama out of the atrium from now on.”

“Oh, me too!” Kirishima whipped out his phone and looked hopeful. 

Izuku couldn’t tell him no and was getting the impression that Kacchan couldn’t either. Soon he had two more names in his contact list and two more people he was going to have to learn to talk to.

Kacchan hung back as Kirishima let himself be herded out of the staffroom.

“I got a question for Deku.” He defended himself when Aizawa flashed his eyes at him. “It’s private.”

“It’s up to you, kid.” Aizawa huffed a sigh at Izuku. 

“Um, I’m good.” He couldn’t imagine what Kacchan wanted to ask him that Kirishima couldn’t hear though, but he let Kacchan shove him over and almost out of earshot of the teachers.

Kacchan had his hands shoved in his pockets and his gaze trained to the left of Izuku’s face. He ground his jaw, working on getting his words in order. “How long was that asshole hitting you?” He asked.

Izuku froze.

“I…” He hauled in all his suddenly scattered thoughts. “...he wasn’t?”

“Oh, bull _ shit.”  _ Kacchan snapped. “I  _ saw _ . After the thing with the Sludge asshole. You were still coming to school with bruises and marks.”

Bruises and marks that Kacchan hadn’t given him, he meant. It was kind of ironic that of all the people to notice or care it had been his former bully.

“He wasn’t hitting me to hit me.” Izuku’s reasoning sounded weak even to him. “Stuff just ...it just happened during sword practice. That’s all.”

Punishment wasn’t getting hit. Training was a part of daily life, but his dad didn’t always heal the injuries Izuku had picked up during training. Sometimes he didn’t have anything to spare. Sometimes he said living with the pain of a stupid misstep kept you from repeating it. It wasn’t the same as --as what Kacchan was implying. Wasn’t it?

Izuku had believed that before. It hadn’t even been a question. Why was it so hard now?

“That’s what you believe?  _ Che. _ ” Kacchan turned on his heel. “I call bullshit, but whatever. Think what you want.”

Izuku watched Kacchan stomp out of the staffroom. He resolutely ignored Mic’s wide eyes following him to his desk and put his head down on his crossed arms.

For once though, no one made him talk about it.

* * *

The house was quiet that evening. Izuku retreated upstairs as soon as dinner was over and Hizashi went down to his studio to take out his bad mood on some unsuspecting sound gear. 

Shouta didn’t usually mind being left alone. The quiet and space was nice, but he disliked the cause. 

Hizashi had told him, briefly, what he’d overheard between Bakugo and Izuku. Shouta had suspected something like that had been going on and he hated having been right. No one was going to be able to talk about it for a while and given everything else going on, it might be time to hand part of the burden of those conversations over to a professional. 

Inui did a lot of counselling for the upperclassmen after they started their internships and started to encounter the violent reality of hero work. Shouta wondered if he had room in his schedule for a more permanent patient. He didn’t know how else he was going to get Izuku to and from a regular appointment otherwise. 

For once he was too wired to nap. Grading occupied him for a while, but eventually he ran out of papers so he cleaned the kitchen. That done, he considered the wisdom of taking himself out on patrol when his pocket buzzed. The number, when he checked his phone, was unfamiliar and he didn’t recognize the format.

He stared at it.

Maybe it was a spam call.

He slid his thumb over the ‘answer’ button. “Hello?”

“Ah, hello? Is this Pro Hero Eraserhead?” It was a woman’s voice. “This is Doctor Akatani Inko; Izuku’s mother.”

It wasn’t spam.

Shouta closed his eyes and slumped backwards in his chair. “Yes.” He rasped and forced himself to get up to take the call downstairs to his soundproofed office. Hizashi could not be anywhere near this conversation. “Are you looking for him?”

“I… yes, I’ll call him next. I have his new number.” She said, sounding hesitant. “I wanted to talk to you first. I’m in Port Lockroy now. My team and I have opted to end our mission here early. We’re arranging for transport home, but the weather is… well. It’s winter here so air travel is limited and unreliable. I don’t know how long it will take me to reach Japan.”

Mission? Shouta stopped with his hand on the door handle to his office. That word was probably more charged for a pro hero than a scientist. “I see.” He let himself in and closed the door behind him. “We’ve been awarded open-ended custody of Izuku. My husband and I are prepared to care for him as long as is necessary.”

“That’s a very neutral way of telling me you’re prepared to keep him.” Inko’s end of the line crackled.

“We would like to.” Honesty was the best policy. “At the moment, it is the safest option. Your ex husband is still at large and has already made one attempt to contact him.”

He heard her take a shaky breath.  _ “That. _ That is the thing I don’t understand.” Inko said. “Hisashi was not an emotional husband. We didn’t have passion and I had reason to be afraid of him when our marriage hit the rocks, but I would have  _ sworn _ that he would never have endangered Izuku. I was sure he would die first after the way he fought for custody. It was the only time I ever thought  _ he _ might be afraid of  _ me.” _

“How much do you know?” Shouta thought ‘screw it’ and zipped himself into his sleeping bag. This was going to be a long conversation, he could tell already. He was damn well going to be comfortable.

“I’ve read all of Izuku’s emails.” Inko sighed. “So probably nothing he thinks would upset or scare me. That’s why I’m talking to you first. You don’t have any reason to spare my feelings. Please tell me what really happened.”

“This will take a while.” Shouta warned her.

“I have no other commitments.” She replied coolly. 

Inko was actually a very polite listener, well at odds with the half-formed image he’d had of her. She asked occasional pointed questions, but otherwise let him speak without interruption. There were parts of it that were hard for her to hear and he was pretty sure she’d covered her microphone so he wouldn’t hear her crying.

Shit, he  _ really _ did not want to like or empathize with this woman.

“...my poor baby.” Inko mourned as Shouta caught her up to the court session that Hizashi had crashed. “Thank you for being there and getting him out of that place. How is he handling it? I know everything must be so strange for him now.”

“He’s adjusting.” Shouta considered how much to tell her. “My husband and I have had to intervene with the training program he’d been following. Being expelled from his old highschool has been the biggest hurdle so far.”

“Being…  _ what.” _ The temperature of the woman’s voice plummeted.  _ “They what?” _

“It happened shortly after he came to live with us.” Shouta wondered how this would go. He wasn’t surprised that Izuku had glossed over that part in his letters. “Before he was able to return to classes.”

“On what grounds!?” Inko didn’t sound weepy anymore. She sounded like Shouta might enjoy seeing her turned loose on the Manaan prep campus.  _ Oh no _ . He  _ liked _ her. “How dared they?!”

“Unexcused absences, falsified quirk registration, and association with a known villain.”

_ “Falsified…?” _ She fell silent. “Have you… how much has Izuku talked to you about his abilities?”

“He’s tried to explain it.” Shouta’s head still hurt just thinking about it. It was easier to accept Nedzu’s cover story as the truth. “He was reluctant at first, but his father sent some kind of projection into the house. I know about his quirkless status.”

“I… I’m actually surprised to hear that.” She said after a surprised little pause. “I’m  _ glad _ , of course. I was afraid I was going to have to try and I don’t really understand it myself. I  _ lived _ with them and I don’t understand. Izuku would try when he was little, but it was like… oh, trying to explain coalescent theory to a toddler and it was  _ my _ toddler trying to explain it to  _ me.” _

“We’re trying to think of it as a versatile quirk. You aren’t like Izuku?” Somehow he’d assumed she was.

“No, I’m a minor telekinetic. My quirk presents similarly and I think that’s what got Hisashi interested in me. I was pregnant by the time he was ready to admit he was wrong.” He heard a chair squeak in the background. “He was more excited for Izuku. The Midoriyas have a strong sense of familial responsibility and some very strict traditions. There are things they can’t do without having trained an apprentice, but I’m not clear about what those things are. Izuku would know more.”

Shouta sat up in his sleeping bag. That was  _ very _ interesting. They’d all been assuming that Hisashi’s motivation was revenge, but that didn’t really fit with the way he’d been all but begging Izuku to come back to him. If he had sunk fifteen years into training his son with his eye on an eventual payoff then that made much more sense.

“Eraserhead-san?”

He realized he’d been quiet for too long. “Sorry, that was helpful just now.” He explained gruffly. “We’ve been struggling to understand Midoriya Hisashi.”

“You and me both.” Inko murmured. “Please,  _ please _ be careful. I’m not telling you this for sympathy, but Hisashi is the reason I had to leave Japan. He’s even more dangerous than you think. I was fighting him for custody. It wasn’t going well. I shouldn’t have had to fight him at all. I was a lecturer at Waseda University and he was a freelance courier, but he has this way of telling people what to think ---and then they  _ did. _ The judges would just award him custody without argument, but I took him to court enough times that even he couldn’t cover it up. Then I started having near accidents; cars plowing into the sidewalk in front of me or things falling from overhead and missing me by inches. He or one of his terrible friends would always show up right afterwards and say the most  _ awful _ things so I’d know who was responsible. The accidents got closer and closer until I realized I had to choose; to be alive for my son or to keep fighting. I couldn’t compete on Hisashi’s level and neither could anyone I could ask for help.”

“We are taking every precaution.” Shouta rolled over onto his back. This was bad. No judge on earth and in their right mind would deny this person her child. They might keep Izuku for a little while until she re-established residency or, at most, until Dragon was captured, but not long past that. Family Court was already suspicious about the earlier hearings. When the police learned that they’d been tampered with then it would all be over. 

“I believe you, actually.” Inko sounded as surprised as Shouta felt. “You… you care for Izuku. Don’t you?”

Ah, so they were going to address the elephant in the room.

“I am very fond of him and the only way my husband could love him more was if he’d been in the delivery room when Izuku was born.”

Inko barked out a laugh identical to Izuku in a sudden burst of good humor. “Oh my!” She gasped. “Wouldn’t  _ that _ have been something?”

“I try not to think about it.” Shouta replied with complete honesty. “We would like to remain part of Izuku’s life however this situation turns out.”

That was Shouta’s final Hail Mary. Inko  _ would  _ get her son back and he could tell already that paying her to go away was not going to work. Hizashi would hate it, but  _ some _ relationship with the kid was better than none. 

“I…” Inko was quiet. “I really don’t know what to do.” She admitted. “I-I’m going to have to think about things and talk to Izuku.”

“Please do. He’s missed you.” Shouta considered his next move. “I’m generally available over text if you need to talk.” That was an enormous lie, but for this he was willing to make the effort.

“Thank you.” Inko said softly. “I appreciate that more than you know.”

They said their goodbyes and Shouta hurriedly zipped himself out of his sleeping bag, stole up the stairs, and reached the top of the stairs just to hear Izuku cry out “Mom!” through the door and the start of some very happy bawling. It was  _ intensely _ weird for Shouta that he’d learned to tell the difference.

He breathed out a sigh and sat down against the wall to eavesdrop. 

* * *

**Shinsou** : Sorry

Izuku blinked sleepily at the message. He checked the clock. It was 2 am.

**Izuku** : What for?

He watched the gray ellipses pulse by Shinsou’s name in the chat for a long time.

**Shinsou** : For making you go in.

**Shinsou** : When you didn’t want to.

**Shinsou** : I thought it was a social anxiety thing. Not a safety thing.

**Shinsou** : So

**Shinsou** : Sorry

**Izuku** : It was a social anxiety thing tho?

**Shinsou** : It’s not paranoia if they are out to get you

Izuku snorted and replied with a gif of a kitten seeing itself in a mirror and falling over.

Shinsou set back a picture of a sandy blond pomeranian with its head tilted back as it yowled. He’d photoshopped red laser eyes onto it and a caption that read  _ DEKUUUUU _ . Izuku had to stuff his head under his pillow so he wouldn’t wake anyone up with his laughter.

* * *

The morning of the Sports Festival dawned earlier for Izuku than most. Mic was MC for the event and had somehow gotten Aizawa to co host for him. That plus the increased media attention on UA meant they had to sneak onto campus before the sun was up.

Izuku was going to have to spend the entire day in a secured auxiliary viewing station that was usually reserved for visiting dignitaries, but this year it was where Yagi-san would hide out until it was time for him to present medals. Isuku had a very short list of people who he could let into the room.

“You’ve got your phone and charger, right?” Mic fretted over him and Izuku tried not to be too obvious about the way he was soaking up the attention. “We’ll be back for lunch, but if you need something then make Yagi go get it.”

“I do and I will.” Izuku didn’t mention that it would take an armed assault to pry him out of the VIP box. He’d only ever seen the UA Sports Festival on TV before. Now he had a view you couldn’t even  _ buy _ and he was going to watch the whole thing sitting next to  _ All Might. _ Six year old Izuku would have hyperventilated at the mere idea. Fifteen year old Izuku wasn’t doing all that much better.

Yagi-san didn’t laugh until after Aizawa had scruffed Mic and hauled him off to work. He was still in the dog house with them for some reason. 

“I’m glad you are all getting along.” He was wearing his usual costume, but was in his smaller and more energy efficient form which was less small these days so the uniform didn’t hang on him the way his clothes used to. It was still baggy, but he wasn’t in any danger of a wardrobe malfunction. Yagi-san had packed the weight back on once he knew he could. Izuku had seen a copy of his ‘recovery plan’ and was at once  _ very _ glad that Aizawa was the one overseeing his training. He hadn’t known it was possible to bulk that fast, but it might have been Yagi-san’s quirk ‘helping’ again.

“It’s better now that everything is out in the open.” Izuku admitted. “Not having to censor myself is doing a lot for my… you know.” He mimicked his anxiety quiver. 

“It’s a relief, isn’t it?” Yagi-san agreed. 

“Yeah.” Izuku looked at his phone, which had just announced a text message from Shinsou and several increasingly excited selfies from Kirishima. “The first year students are lining up for the big entrance.”

He broke out the snacks and drinks just in time for Mic’s cheerful voice to roll through the packed stadium. Izuku could barely stay in his seat as the students filed onto the field. He always forgot just how  _ big _ the student body actually was. There were ten classes in each year with twenty to forty students per class. The field was packed with blue-suited bodies when Nemuri-san called up the first year representative to give a speech.

“Oh man…” Izuku groaned as a familiar blonde head wove through the crowd of students heading for the podium. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as he thought?

...no. No, it was worse. 

“Oh, maaan.” Izuku groaned as Kacchan got done telling all his classmates that he was going to win the entire event and they should all be good little stepping stones while he did it. “Kacchan,  _ why are you like this?” _

Yagi-san coughed to cover a laugh. “He’s certainly made it harder on himself.”

“Yeah, well, that was the point.” Izuku snorted. Typical.

“You think so?” Yagi-san looked thoughtful.

“I know so.” Izuku sighed and munched on a handful of chips. Access to junk food almost made everything he’d been through getting out of his dad’s house worth it. “It’s easy to write him off as a big dumb bully, but Kacchan puts in the work. He doesn’t cut himself any slack. If the win is too easy then he doesn’t want it. He’s cornering himself.”

It’d be a lot easier all around if Kacchan really was the stupid jerk he acted like, but Izuku shoved those thoughts aside. He was going to have a  _ nice time _ , dammit.

The first event was an obstacle course and Izuku was on the edge of his seat the whole time. Typically, Kacchan pulled out to the lead neck-and-neck with another kid from the hero program. They both had powerhouse type quirks that lent themselves well toward mobility. Kacchan could propel himself through the air, but Todoroki was really adept with his ice and had given himself a huge lead at the beginning.

Shinsou was hanging back a bit further. He’d managed to avoid Todoroki’s initial sabotage and was keeping himself towards the back of the pack in front. Interestingly, he recognized a few members of the 1-B class doing the same.

“Oh, landmines!” Izuku cooed to himself and then sighed in disappointment a few minutes later. “Aww, no one’s using them. That’s a shame.”

“Using…” Yagi frowned at him. “...son, those are obstacles. You  _ avoid _ them.”

“I mean, if you want to be  _ technical _ about it.” Izuku shrugged sulkily. Obstacle courses were a great time to show off how creative you could be with your quirk and no one was really doing more than the obvious. As a fan, he was disappointed. “They’re all concussive mines. All boom, no shrapnel. Nedzu usually includes some kind of terrain disadvantage like a landslide or sand so a smart competitor would have grabbed some of the robot wreckage to use as a sled or raft. If you deliberately detonated some then you could use it to ride the kinetic force of an explosion ahead of the other runners and grab some lead..”

“Child, sometimes you worry me.” Yagi sighed. “Ah, they’re getting close to the end!”

Kacchan and Todoroki were  _ really _ going at it, but at the eleventh hour Kacchan got in an explosion-propelled spin kick that clipped Todoroki in the jaw and bought him those precious few seconds worth of a lead that made the difference between coming first and second. Kacchan skidded into the stadium with a triumphant shout and Izuku felt a familiar and unwelcome lurch in his chest.

_ Oh no. _ He was past this! Only apparently  _ not. _

Izuku dropped his face into his hands and only rallied when they announced Shinsou’s name in the top twenty.

“Is there a problem, my boy?” Yagi-san put a gentle hand on his back. “Is it one of those… Force things?”

“What? No.” Izuku sighed. “Just an inconvenient crush rearing its ugly head again.”

“Again…” Yagi-san blinked, looked out onto the field at Kacchan and said, “Oh.  _ OH. _ My boy, are you  _ sure? Why?” _

He looked very worried for Izuku’s sanity, which ...fair. So was Izuku sometimes.

“I don’t want to be  _ with _ Kacchan. That would be  _ terrible.” _ Izuku shuddered at the idea. Kacchan would be the  _ worst _ boyfriend he could possibly imagine. That was even assuming Kacchan was even attracted to other people at all. He had his doubts about that. Near as Izuku could tell, Kacchan’s orientation was ‘win all the things.’ “It’s just… he does stuff like  _ this _ and I… have  _ feelings _ about it. I keep thinking;  _ this is it, he’s finally been awful enough that even I can’t keep carrying this torch. _ Then he goes and does something just effortlessly cool like making a trick shot with his back turned or-or taking first in the UA entrance exam and I’m back on the hook.”

“Huh.” Yagi-san considered that while Mic announced a particularly nasty twist to the Cavalry Battle and Kacchan suddenly looked a lot less confident, which did something to cheer Izuku back up. “Perhaps it’s not the boy in question, just his general competence that attracts you?”

Izuku frowned and thought about that. He only got the fluttery feeling when Kacchan did something really cool. Just being around his former friend didn’t really move him the same way. Still, he hadn’t had that reaction to anyone else aside from some Pro Heroes and he’d always written than off as fanboy enthusiasm. Granted, he hadn’t met anyone his age who could match Kacchan for sheer innate ability. Izuku hadn’t really seen anyone stand out at Manaan either, but people there were more bookish and not really into the flashy physical stuff. 

“Is that… is that  _ okay?” _ He asked. It seemed shallow somehow. Weren’t you supposed to like people for who they were? It seemed to fit the way he was feeling, but did that make him a bad person?

“There’s a difference between attraction and affection, my boy.” Yagi-san laughed and shook his head. “Attraction is superficial by its very nature. Affection requires familiarity. If that is the case, however, I expect you’re going to have a rough time of it in the Hero department.”

“What…?” A burst of activity on the field caught his eye. 

Todoroki’s cavalry team blew past Kacchan’s in a sudden burst of speed and the dark haired boy making up the front of Todoroki’s warhorse turned a wide grin towards the big camera while Todoroki dropped the 10,000,000 point bandana over his head with a slight, yet pleased smile. 

Izuku’s heart did that awful  _ thing _ again.

Oh no.

_ “Oh no.” _ He repeated out loud and Yagi-san, the traitor, just  _ laughed _ at him.

Shinsou continued his strategy of hanging back until right before the clock ran out, when he collected three more bandanas in rapid succession and came in fourth at the last second. Mic had a  _ ball _ hamming up his reaction to that.

“Young Shinsou is working hard.” Yagi-san settled back into his seat. “Aizawa and Yamada will be proud. His parents too, I’m sure. Are they coming up with him?”

Izuku shrugged. “He didn’t say. I packed extra just in case, but tickets are beyond expensive even with the student discount.” He checked his phone. There were several texts waiting.

**Shinsou** : On my way up.

**Mic** : Start unpacking the food, we’re incoming! I am going to eat EVERYTHING.

“Huh, guess Shinsou is on his own.” Izuku mused. That was fine. There’d be bigger portions for everyone else. 

He and a puffed up Yagi-san had the big tiered lunch box out and a picnic set up on the floor by the time Aizawa let Mic and Shinsou into the VIP box. Izuku and Mic had been up late making it and as a result he never wanted to stuff another riceball again in his life.

Shinsou was distracted by the food until he realized who was offering him a plate and fell over backwards.

“A-all Might!?” He shot a desperate look at Izuku and Izuku recognized that flavor of internal panic. He’d felt the same way when he came to underneath that bridge with Yagi-san standing over him.  _ Everyone _ was a secret or not to secret All Might fan. “What…?”

“Midoriya is keeping me company during the Festival.” Yagi-san lied smoothly. “I’m staying out of sight until the awards ceremony. You’ll stay quiet about it, yes?”

“Sure.” Shinsou scuttled over so Izuku was between him and the Symbol of Peace.  _ “You fucking traitor!” _ He hissed.

“Sorry!” Izuku lied. “Oh, hey. Here.” He handed Shinsou a smaller bento. “Mic and I forgot to ask what your quirk uses for fuel, but those are basically pure fat, sugar, and carbs. They should power you up for the next round.”

Shinsou blinked hard as he opened up the box to reveal donut balls soaked in syrup with a broad toothpick/spoon to eat them with that looked like Present Mic’s head. “I… don’t actually know.” He admitted and speared one. “I’m always craving sugar so probably.”

“You never had a quirk assessment?” Mic exchanged one of those looks with Aizawa and Izuku said a quiet prayer for Shinsou’s parents’ peace of mind. They were probably going to hear about this.

“I did.” Shinsou ate one of the donuts and then two more in rapid, hungry succession. “They were mostly concerned with figuring out how I was activating it than how I could get the most out of it.”

“Sheesh.” Mic sighed. “That’s no good. We’ll get you an appointment with Recovery Girl. She’s a trained evaluator.”

“That was a good turnaround in the cavalry battle.” Aizawa said unexpectedly. There was something about his expression though that Izuku didn’t quite like. “How did you get your team to respond to you so quickly?”

“I told them that if they worked with me that I could get them to the final round.” Shinsou bristled the way he always did when his quirk came up. “I didn’t just  _ brainjack _ them.”

Aizawa nodded. “I didn’t think you had.” He replied, calmly serving himself some salmon stuffed onigiri and rolled omelet. “...but were they working  _ with _ you or working  _ for _ you?”

Shinsou’s whole face flushed red. “I did what I said I would. I held up my end of the bargain.”

“Sho, right before the elimination matches  _ isn’t _ the time for this.” Mic frowned, but was ignored.

“It’s not a matter of what you did or didn’t do. It’s how they’ll feel about it. Your average hero student is pathologically honest and they react badly when they feel they’ve received a win they didn’t earn.” Aizawa looked directly at Shinsou. “Feelings aren’t logical. I’d rather you think about this in here rather than out on the field in the middle of a match.”

“I used the advantages I had.” Shinsou replied dully. “I’m three weeks behind and it’s already hard enough to close the gap.”

“Correct.” Aizawa said over Mic’s hissed  _ ‘Sho! Stop it!’ _ “You utilized your quirk to compensate for the fact that your team was composed of strangers. You are coming from behind because the entrance exam is biased towards physical quirks. There’s a good chance you’ll be facing your former teammates in the final round and they’ll have suspicions about your quirk. Are you… _ urk!” _

Mic got Aizawa into a headlock. “Shinsou, get out there and kick ass.” He said shortly. “You can worry about hurt feelings later. We’re going to be cheering for you.  _ Right, Eraserhead?” _

“All right.” Yagi-san stood up to his full height. “Hallway, gentlemen. Now.”

Izuku waited until they were gone. “It’s always scary when he remembers he’s the most grownup person in the room.”

_ “Haaahhhhh. _ You know All Might.  _ Of course _ you know All Might.” Shinsou rubbed his temples. “ _ How _ do you know All Might?”

“I got attacked by a villain and he was the responding hero.” Izuku pointed at the lunch box. “Eat.”

“That’s it?” Shinsou obediently started filling a plate with non-sugary foods. “He saves a lot of people. What made you stand out?”

That was something Izuku wondered about sometimes. “I’m not really sure, but he did see me with my dad afterwards. Something about it must have bothered him. Looks like he was right on that count. We also used to see each other on the train a lot too. I showed him the stuff my mom would send me.”

“Yeah?” Shinsou made the mistake of adding, “What stuff?” so course Izuku had to get out the online album on his phone and show him all his mom’s pictures. They were still scrolling when Yagi-san brought Mic and Aizawa -both much more subdued- back into the room. 

“Ok, what the fuck is that?” Shinsou was saying in mild alarm.

Izuku squinted at the mass of tentacles on his screen trying to remember the story behind it until he spotted a squid’s mantle. Oh. “That’s a giant cranch squid. Some fishermen caught it and my mom’s team ended up getting sent to collect and dissect it. It ended up being one of the largest specimens ever studied.”

“Holy  _ shit _ . What is she doing out there?” 

“She’s a marine rift ecologist, but right now she’s on loan to a different program as a sample technician. She’s got a really useful quirk for it; telekinetic pull. She can take samples with minimal contamination, which is really valuable in her field.” He flicked over to an underwater shot of him and his mom spear hunting lionfish from their last vacation before everything changed. He didn’t realize he’d been staring at it until Shinsou elbowed him.

“Your mom’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah, she is.” Izuku agreed. “What about your parents? What do they do?”

Shinsou dropped his gaze and his hand rose to cup the back of his neck. His mood -which had improved with the application of food and pretty distractions- soured and Izuku realized he’d managed to step on another landmine. Dammit. 

“My current foster father drives a truck. His wife is a homemaker.” He reached for the dessert box and proceeded to decimate the donuts. He must have known what he was doing because Izuku felt Shinsou’s mood lift immediately. 

They both missed the look that passed over Aizawa’s face, there and gone so fast that they’d have probably missed it even if they’d been paying attention anyway.

“Why do these smell like flowers?” Shinsou asked. 

“There’s rosewater in the syrup.” Mic told him. “I make those for Sho to take on long patrols. They’re great if your quirk runs on neuro-electrical discharge. Izuku has another box for you to take with you so you can top up if you need to.”

“Thanks.” The last jagged edges of Shinsou’s bad mood smoothed out and Izuku exhaled his relief. The last thing he wanted was for his friend to get psyched out at the last minute before the last round because Aizawa had fumbled his very bad attempt at a pep talk. He didn’t think there was any way Nedzu would pass over Shinsou when he was picking out candidates for the open slots in the hero program, but he also knew Shinsou had things to prove to himself and he didn’t know what Shinsou’s competition looked like.

Mic’s watch went off and he sighed. “Looks like we’ll need to break up the party, little listeners.”

They hurriedly packed the food back up and sent Shinsou off with his snacks. 

“What did you say to them in the hallway?” Izuku asked as soon as he and Yagi-san were alone again. 

“Aizawa-kun is used to young people who need to be torn down a little in order to be built back up. Young Shinsou isn’t coming from the same place as his usual classes.” Yagi-san deflated with a sigh and a cloud of steam. “I just gave Yamada-kun a space to point that out.”

The matches started then and Izuku had no more attention for conversation because someone had tricked some of the 1-A girls into showing up on the field in cheerleader outfits and the second hand embarrassment was  _ unbearable _ . 

His phone started to beep as HeroNet notifications began to flood in. He opened the first one, a DM from one of his favorite net frenemies, with a link to a video; the first of many captured from the national live feed and uploaded to HeroNet for the fandom to pull apart.

**1000echoes** : Have you _ seen _ THIS bullshit???

He settled in to watch with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sports Festival!


	8. Part Eight

Hitoshi took himself back to the VIP Box once Midnight finished announcing the final round. His bracket match wasn’t for a while and he wasn’t about to wear himself out during the other ‘fun’ events and he wanted some time to process what had happened with the members of his warhorse team. 

Aizawa-sensei hadn’t been exaggerating and in retrospect he kind of appreciated the fact that his teacher had been trying to cushion the incoming blow for him. 

He still didn’t regret what he’d done. He was trying to succeed in a system prejudiced against him, but at the same time he wanted a quiet place with friendly people. For once he had one to go to. 

Midoriya was alone, thank goodness, when he arrived and brightened up as soon as he registered who’d opened the door.

“Shinsou!” He pumped both his fists into the air. He was  _ so _ excited; like a little kid on crack. “A tournament! It’s a bracket tournament!”

“Yeah.” He looked around, but All Might wasn’t hiding in any of the corners. “I thought you weren’t supposed to be alone.”

“I can be now, but Mic and Aizawa don’t want me in the hallways. There’s a lot of reporters running around. They don’t want me showing up on tv in the background of some interview. All Might went to find out who was behind that cheerleader prank.” He sobered, looking about as serious as a human plush doll could. “Are you okay? Aizawa can be pretty rough.”

Oh, that.

“It’s fine.” Hitoshi lied. It wasn’t fine, but he was doing better after it had become clear that Aizawa had accurately predicted his students’ reaction to being handed the win they’d  _ asked _ for. Shinsou had known the hero students were self absorbed, but he’d failed to really keep that in mind when working with them. “It was better than getting blindsided.”

“You’ll do better next time.” Midoriya sounded so confident that there would  _ be  _ a next time and that, just, ugh. Hitoshi’s poor blackened heart couldn’t take it. “Oh, man. Tournaments are the best. You can really see everyone’s quirk in action. I wish I’d brought my notebooks. I didn’t even think about it.”

“You disappointed you’re not competing?” 

“A little.” Midoriya sighed. “This is good too though. If you’d have told me last year that I’d be getting to see the UA Sports Festival in person -much less as a student- I would have thought you were nuts.” 

Right, Midoriya had been groomed for villainy. He had to keep reminding himself of that whenever he started to think his friend’s life was getting a little too charmed.

“Everybody probably feels that way.” Hitoshi didn’t. He hadn’t been able to let himself think how long his chances of even getting this far had been. “Hey, what do you think my chances are?”

Midoriya cocked his head. “It’s going to depend on your match-ups.” He leaned back in his chair and started tugging on his lip. “That’s the  _ bad  _ thing about bracket tournaments. If you get a really bad match early on then it doesn’t matter if you’re more skilled than 90% of the other competitors. People with quirks suited to rapid takedowns are going to be a big issue for you especially once you get further into the tournament and they get a chance to figure you out.”

That meant Todoroki, which Hitoshi had anticipated. Fortunately they were on opposite ends of the bracket and wouldn’t meet until the finals. If he had to worry about that kid then he was already on the podium.

“Other than that, I’d worry about Tokoyami. That shadow of his seems to act independently and it might be intelligent enough to count as a separate target. He’s your first match, right?”

“He’s a talker.” Hitoshi had been listening in on the Hero students for weeks now. Tokoyami was more bearable than most of them, but he also had a bad case of the melodrama. He wasn’t the type who could resist pre-fight banter and that’s where Hitoshi would get him. “I can take him out before he can get close.”

Almost all his potential bracket matches were chatty. The girls were actually his most dangerous options despite the long odds they were getting with the online bookies when Hitoshi last checked.

Ashido came off as pretty superficial, but that meant he couldn’t predict where her buttons would be. Uraraka wasn’t much better. She was sweet and bubbly right up until she was absolutely not. He didn’t understand either of them well enough to get under their skin and not for lack of trying. Both girls kept their soft spots private. They would both be nightmarish to take on in close combat due to their quirks and with each match that passed it would be harder to effectively use his own. 

“Hey, has Mic shown you any throws?” Midoriya asked, apropos of nothing.

Hitoshi blinked. “Not really, no.” Mic’s quirk made them pointless for him. If he wanted to knock someone down then he’d use his voice.

“Ashido has that lubrication quirk you said.” Midoriya got up out of his chair and started taking off his jacket.  _ Why _ was he taking off his jacket?

“It’s acid, but she uses it to skate around too.” Hitoshi agreed, not liking where this was going. They’d talked a lot about the Hero program students in the past week; mostly Hitoshi relaying what he’d heard and Midoriya looking thoughtful.

“She’s going to be your toughest initial match. It’d be great if Aoyama took her out for you, but I don’t see it happening.” Midoriya smiled. “Uraraka is probably not going to get past Kacchan. They’re a bad match too, but in his favor. She’s got an amazing quirk, but you said it’s got a big rebound effect. It’ll be hard for her to close the distance between them and I don’t know her well enough to guess whether or not she can out-plan him. Still, our first problem is Ashido and we know she likes to go fast.”

That was a shame because Hitoshi would  _ love _ to see the bigshot of 1-A get his ass handed to him by a dark horse like Uraraka, but he agreed with Midoriya’s assessment. Almost all the kids in 1-A were reliant on their quirks in combat and hadn’t had their noses rubbed in it yet the way Hitoshi had.

“You know the problem with going fast?” Midoriya asked, looking almost… evil? Was that a look his face could make? “It’s hard to stop.”

* * *

“WHAT’S THIIIIS??” Hizashi crowed as Ashido went over the edge of the circle.

Shouta hid his smile behind his scarves as Hizashi put a replay up on the big screens and started the most enthusiastic critique imaginable.

The kid’s first round hadn’t been much to watch, but had the advantage of being too quick for anyone to get an idea of his quirk. He’d snared Tokoyami right away and while Dark Shadow had been able to snap him out of it, it hadn’t managed to hit Tokoyami hard enough to do any good before the boy was out of bounds. 

He’d continued to play his quirk close to the chest in his second match and instead let Ashido chase him around the ring until he got her to charge him. It’d been risky getting close to the edge of the ring and letting Ashido get that close, but he caught her by the jacket at the last second and fell backwards in a near perfect sacrifice throw; planted a foot in her mid section and used his long legs to punt her right out of bounds.

Ashido being Ashido, she popped right back up with a sheepish grin and a wave for the audience. “He got me!” She laughed and waved at Shinsou, who looked poleaxed and waved back like he’d never seen good sportsmanship before in his life. Ah,  _ kid. _ “Good fight!”

Hizashi flicked off the mic for a minute while Cementoss reset the field after Ashido’s quirk had gouged and pitted the ring. “He’s going up against Bakugo next. Kirishima will wear himself out doing two rounds with Tetsutetsu and the defensive types don’t do well in these tournaments.”

“I didn’t know you knew any grappling moves.” Shouta didn’t really want to think about that match up. Shinsou was like him when he was a kid; a glass cannon. He had one big ace up his sleeve, but other than that he was a squishy civilian. Given time they’d be able to round him out into an effective hero, but it would take more than they’d had leading up to the festival. Even then, he was  _ meant _ to be an ambush predator. Bakugo, on the other hand, was an all around powerhouse and fighting in his prime element: open space. He had so many advantages it was almost offensive.

Their match would be over in seconds and it would all come down to whether or not Shinsou could get Bakugo on the hook before Bakugo blew him out of the ring. 

“I don’t.” Hizashi  _ hmmed. _ “I think he picked that up from Izukun. Using Ashido’s momentum against her is totally that kid’s style. I wonder when they found the time? I haven’t been letting them spar together because I didn’t want Shinsou’s style to get confused before he really internalized how to make use of those long legs. Sneaky little brats.” He said fondly.

Shouta felt a bit better. If Shinsou was using all the resources available to him then he had to have asked Izuku about Bakugo. Both of those kids were strategists at heart and not shy of using every advantage at hand. Hopefully they’d workshopped battle plans for all Shinsou’s potential matchups, but really all he wanted was for the kid to get through the tournament without an injury.

He was also certain that wasn’t going to happen, but there was nothing he could do to help or stop it.

This ‘caring’ thing was awful and he wondered if it was too late to return it.

* * *

Uraraka didn’t make it past Kacchan, but it was the most amazing loss Izuku had ever seen. She fought right up until the point where her body gave out on her. Izuku was pretty sure she could have taken it, but she’d said something right before releasing her overhead attack and it gave Kacchan time to react. Still, it was a fantastic match.

Yagi-san’s theory was holding water so far. Kacchan had been on the field, but for once he wasn’t the person Izuku had been having flutters over. He’d never realized it was possible to lose better than your opponent won.

He flopped back into his chair, exhausted from cheering on a girl he’d never met and who couldn’t hear him. 

“She’s going to get some good draft picks out of that fight.” Shinsou observed from Yagi-san’s still abandoned seat. “I mean, he’s going to get more because he’s flashier, but she might get a better work-study offer out of it.”

Izuku  _ hmmmed _ in thought as he checked his feed on HeroNet. “Maybe. Kacchan is getting a lot of flack for going all out against a girl actually. Not seeing a lot about Uraraka on her own. I don’t think she got enough attention. Kacchan’s the type people make a lot of noise about, good or bad.”

“Gross.” Shinsou was putting a dent in their lunch leftovers because he was a black hole who didn’t care about going into a fight on a full stomach. “I mean, I’m glad  _ I _ don’t have to fight her.”

“No, you have Kacchan to worry about instead.” Izuku agreed. 

He’d given Shinsou what he could, but they’d both spent a lot of time not talking about the fact that if he had to  _ fight _ Kacchan then he was going to lose.

They watched Todoroki go up against Iida, which was another short and unsatisfying fight. Iida’s mind was somewhere else entirely and he didn’t even stick around for Mic to announce Todoroki’s win. 

“Something is going on with that guy.” Izuku observed. Hopefully whatever it was wasn’t bad. It probably was though. He had that look like everything between him and the exit was just an obstacle he wouldn’t hesitate to remove.

“My match is next. They’ll be calling me soon.” Shinsou got up and held out his fist to Izuku. “Wish me luck?”

“Kick butt.” Izuku tapped his knuckles against his friend’s. He didn’t say ‘Don’t get hurt.’

Yagi-san returned shortly after Shinsou left. “There are two young men in 1-A who will be serving detention for the rest of their lives.” He sighed, taking his seat.

“Which ones?” Izuku was ready for a distraction.

“Kaminari and Mineta. You haven’t met them.” Yagi-san shook his head. “Mineta may not be long for heroics at this point. His behavior around his female classmates is troubling.”

Mineta… Izuku thought. “Is it that kid with the purple balls on his head?” He asked. “The one who attacked Yaoyorozu during the obstacle course?”

Yagi went very, very still. “The one who  _ what?” _

Izuku got out his phone. There was a lot of social media coverage of the Sports Festival, but the detailed analyses were often behind by an hour or so. The clip 1000echoes had sent him of a weird little purple guy jumping on a female student and literally riding her to victory was already making waves on HeroNet though. They had Yaoyorozuru’s name because someone was trying to figure out if Mineta had gotten her jacket open or if she’d needed it for her quirk. 

Some people were being gross and awful because she just had a sports bra on under his jacket, but mostly people were pissed about the fact that he thought that what he was doing was okay and what it meant that someone like that got accepted into the top class of the top heroics in the nation. R@0verlord was already three segments into a furious screed about sexual misconduct in the heroics industry. Meanwhile, 1000echoes was turning Mineta into a series of increasingly scathing memes.

He started the video and showed it to Yagi-san.

“Well.” He said at last. “At least we finally have actionable evidence of his misconduct.”

“You didn’t before?” Izuku frowned. “I’m not even in a class and  _ I’ve _ heard about him. UA is supposed to have the best security in the world.”

“Rumors are one thing. He’s been very good about keeping his behavior out of sight of the faculty and the security robots.” Yagi-san shook his head, likely at the idea of a kid Mineta’s age being that skilled of a predator. “There have been complaints lodged by the girls affected, but the former staffer in charge of the school’s safety committee declined to make any records so we only have their word for it and the school board won’t accept that. Will you forward that link to Principal Nedzu and myself?”

Izuku did so, wondering if he’d just gotten someone expelled. He didn’t actually feel all that bad about it. Mineta’s tactics weren’t bad considering his limited stamina and short legs, but in the video he’d passed up other (male) students who would have served his need for a mule better than the hot girl with her shirt open. He hadn’t had to grab onto her butt and drool about it either.

That bit about a UA staffer covering for him too was especially hard to hear. Izuku remembered the rare occasions when he’d tried to ask for help with his bullies in middle and grade school. If there was one staffer colluding to cover up student misconduct then there were probably more. 

On the off chance that Nedzu couldn’t do anything about it, Izuku also forwarded the clip to Aizawa and a link to R@0verloard’s post about it in case he didn’t realize why he should care. One way or the other, Mineta was going to keep his hands to himself in the future. 

Out on the field, Mic announced the last match of the semifinals; Shinsou versus Bakugo.

“Oh man.” Izuku covered his face with his hands. “I can’t watch.” He peeked through his fingers anyway.

Kacchan was looking pumped. He was crouched, ready to pounce with his palms up and shooting sparks. By comparison, Shinsou seemed almost bored with his hands in his pockets. 

There wasn’t any sound coming from the ring, just video so Izuku could see when Shinsou started to talk but not hear what was said.

_ Come on… _

Izuku pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around himself.

Kacchan looked confused and vaguely insulted, but didn’t say anything back. The important thing was that he didn’t attack either until something Shinsou said edged over from  _ ‘blah blah blah noise’ _ in Kacchan’s head into some other, unhappy territory. He puffed up with rage, hands flaming, and opened his mouth to say… nothing. 

His eyes went blank and slowly he turned on his heel to walk out of the ring. 

Shinsou held up one hand to acknowledge his victory as the stadium went  _ nuts _ . His eyes creased in the faintest of smiles and… oh no.

Izuku groped his own face, trying to understand why it was hot. 

_ Oh no _ . Not again. His heart could not take another sad one-sided crush. 

He yelped as a cold water bottle made contact with his neck. Yagi-san wasn’t laughing at him this time, just smiling in sympathy. “Looks like your friend has made it to the finals.” 

The finals… against Todoroki. Izuku remembered the feeling he’d gotten watching the quiet boy take first in the cavalry battle and his stomach unclenched. He’d felt something then too. It hadn’t been as intense because he didn’t know Todoroki maybe, but Yagi-san had said attraction was superficial. Uraraka pressed his buttons too and he didn’t know her at all. His heart began to slow back down.

It was okay. He didn’t have another Kacchan situation on his hands. He was going to be okay.

“Yeah, he did!” Izuku smiled with unfettered happiness. No matter what, Shinsou was going to make it to the podium and Bakugo would be fighting Iida for third.

The final match went exactly as they’d predicted only worse. Something had riled Todoroki up even more than he’d been during his match with Sero and he caught Shinsou in a block of ice almost as soon as Midnight finished saying the word ‘go.’ He thawed his opponent out right away, but there was no little smile from Todoroki this time. He looked… brittle. Something had happened during the break.

There was no match for third place. Iida had vanished from the stadium and Bakugo took it by default. He stood woodenly on the podium staring into the middle distance as Yagi-san awarded him the bronze medal. Gen Ed’s section exploded in cheers as Shinsou accepted his silver medal and the entire crowd went crazy for Todoroki who seemed as though he were somewhere else entirely; untouched by anything or anyone even as All Might himself placed the gold around his neck.

He should have looked cool, but Izuku just felt sad for him and he couldn’t even articulate why.

* * *

Midoriya fell asleep on the train home wedged between Mic-sensei and Hitoshi’s shoulders. He’d been wired all day and just like a little kid he was out like a light as soon as the excitement was over and he’d had to sit quietly for more than a few seconds. Honestly, Hitoshi wasn’t much better.

He was exhausted, but in a good way. He’d succeeded in his goals for the Festival. He’d wanted gold, but had been willing to settle for bronze. Silver was more than acceptable and he kept reaching into his pocket to feel the velvet box they’d given him to keep the medal in just to remind himself it was still there and real.

Mic-sensei and Aizawa-sensei were talking with their hands to avoid waking up Midoriya. Hitoshi had picked up a little finger spelling from his friend, but he was nowhere near being able to keep up with their teachers.

Still the rocking of the train car, Midoriya sleep-mumbling into his shoulder, and the quiet presence of his teachers lulled him into a nice little fantasy where no one ever had to get off the train. Hitoshi never really wanted to go home, but he wanted to go there less with every after school session. 

In reality, Hitoshi would have to transfer to another train line in about two stops. Mic-sensei and Aizawa-sensei would escort Midoriya back to wherever he was staying and then they’d go off and do whatever it was adult pro heroes did when they weren’t shepherding teenagers or otherwise at work.

No dream lasted forever, especially for Hitoshi. Midoriya snorted awake as Hitoshi’s stop was announced and babbled apologies for drooling on him.

“You did good today, Shinsou.” Aizawa spoke softly as Hitoshi passed by him. “We’ll discuss what comes next on Monday.”

That alone kept him warm all through his next train ride and all the way up the darkened street where his current group home was located. 

It wasn’t the worst place. Hakoda-san’s wife kept a clean house even though there were five kids plus Hitoshi there to get it dirty and most of them were too little for chores. There were no kids his age either so no one got pushy or punchy with him. He had to be careful about his stuff because the little kids weren’t great about differentiating between ‘mine’ and ‘yours.’ Still there was food for every meal and he was within commuting distance of UA. That was more than he’d hoped for in middle school.

The lights were on in the house when he got to the front door, which should have been his first warning. Hakoda-san’s day started at 3 AM so bedtimes were strict in his house. The only reason Hitoshi got away with coming home as late as he did was because he had extracurriculars at school and had proven he could be quiet.

Hitoshi didn’t realize anything was wrong however until he noticed an unfamiliar pair of shoes sitting in the entryway; plain brown pumps with a solid heel and padded insoles, the type of professional shoe worn by a woman who did a lot of walking. They were the kind of shoes social workers wore.

Mika-san smiled at him from the living room when Hitoshi made his cautious way inside and his stomach fell down all the way to his feet. 

Hakoda-san was seated in his usual chair, still fully dressed with a thunderous look of disapproval and his four arms crossed over his chest. There was a packed bag at his feet and Hitoshi recognized it as his own. 

“It’s been a while, Hitoshi-kun.” Mika-san’s eyes were pinched and she kept trying not to look towards Hakoda-san. She was older somehow than when he’d seen her last. He could see creases around her eyes that hadn’t been there at the beginning of the year when she’d brought him to this house.

“Take him away.” Hakoda-san interrupted. “I won’t have him in my house. You swore to me his reputation was exaggerated. You lied and I want him out. You take him now or I throw him into the street.”

“I... what?” Hitoshi looked from Hakoda-san to Mika-san. Nobody answered him.

“This is a misunderstanding.” Mika-san said with fracturing patience. “Hitoshi-kun, why don’t you go change while I discuss this with…”

“No. No discussions.” Hakoda-san stood up to his full height. He was a big man; big enough that he could have hacked it as a hero. He wasn’t a violent person though and Hitoshi had respected that. “I saw what you did, boy. I saw you hurt that girl. I saw what you did to those boys. I won’t have that in my house.”

His entire body flushed hot. “Everyone I fought today was a trainee hero!” He blurted out.

“I let you go to that school because you were in the general education program. I thought you were trying to rise above your nature.” Hakoda-san snorted. “More the fool me. I should have known better.”

The heat abandoned him in a rush leaving only cold.

“Hakoda-san, that’s enough.” Mika-san’s temper frayed and snapped. 

“It is.” He agreed. “Take the boy and go.”

Mika-san stood up in a rush, all but trembling with anger. “Hitoshi-kun, check the bag to make sure you have everything.” She pinned Hakoda-san with a glare when he started to bluster. “If you want him gone then he’ll go with all his belongings.  _ Am I understood?” _

Hitoshi woodenly sorted through the bag. He was missing some of his casual clothes and found them in with the dirty laundry. All the bedroom doors upstairs were closed. His former foster family was hiding behind them like they were expecting him to attack.

… of course they were. Why had he expected any differently?

The one bright note was that Hakoda-san forgot to ask Hitoshi for his phone back. Those weren’t provided by the foster program. They were given at the discretion of the foster families and his was a reloadable model. He’d have to ration his minutes and his texts until he knew he could get more, but he wasn’t cut off from his… his friends. He wasn’t going to just vanish. 

That was the important thing.

He held his phone, unsure of who to message. He had numbers for Midoriya, Mic-sensei, and Aizawa-sensei. Everyone else in his contact list was a former foster parent or a classmate’s number he had for group work.

Would it be okay to contact his teachers directly? 

“You’ll have to come back to the office with me.” Mika-san sighed as she let him into her car. She’d been his social worker since he was ten and they got along more or less. She’d done a lot to weed the bad notes out of his permanent record and had gotten him into a halfway decent foster home as a reward for getting into a school as good as UA. “I’ll work on finding you a bed for the night. Oh, and send me a number for one of your teachers? I’ll need to let them know you’ll be out for a little bit.”

He should have given her the number of his real homeroom teacher, Thirteen, but Hitoshi found himself forwarding her Aizawa-sensei’s personal cell phone number instead.

Hitoshi wasn’t expecting a rescue or anything stupid like that, he told himself. He just… wasn’t ready to contact anyone, not while this terrible thing was still happening. He’d wait a few days until he knew more. Aizawa would tell Thirteen, but Thirteen might not think to tell Aizawa or Mic. 

This was just so they’d know he was alright --and he  _ was _ alright. 

He was always alright.

Hitoshi huddled in the back seat of Mika-san’s car and repeated that lie to himself.

* * *

Shouta retreated to his office as soon as they got home. Hizashi was still pumped from the event and would have trouble modulating his volume for the rest of the night. He’d last seen his husband in the kitchen singing a very bad extempore parody version of an already terrible top 40 song so he didn’t plan on showing his face upstairs until it was closer to bedtime by which point Hizashi would have hopefully worn himself out.

_ Actually, _ getting a little head start on bedtime wouldn’t hurt anything. 

Shouta laid out his sleeping bag and was just about to zip himself in when, of course, his phone rang.

He half-expected it to be Inko-san about the festival, but she wasn’t anywhere a live broadcast would reach. To his surprise, he recognized the number as the main line for child welfare. 

If they were looking down the barrel of a surprise home inspection then Shouta would  _ not _ be held responsible for his actions…

He answered. “This is Aizawa.”

“Good evening, this is Mika Hitomi. I’m sorry to be calling so late.” A woman’s voice answered him. “I’m a social worker for the city of Musutafu and I’m calling regarding one of your students, Shinsou Hitoshi.”

“Is he all right?” They had seen him not half an hour ago. What had happened in such a short time?

“Yes, he’s fine.” Mika-san was an unconvincing liar and Shouta was on instant alert. He kicked out of his sleeping bag and started reassembling his kit. Apparently he was going to be busting heads that night instead of sleeping. “There’s just been an upset with his living situation. I called to let you know he may be missing some school while we try to find him a new placement.”

She did not sound at all confident when she said that.

“Mika-san, this is a  _ very _ bad time for Shinsou to be missing classes.” Aizawa collected his wallet and keys from where he’d tossed them onto his desk. “His performance in the Sport Festival was enough to earn him consideration for a promotion to the heroics department. Any absences from school would jeopardize that.”

“Oh, I… one moment.” He heard the sound of a door shutting. “In all honesty, Aizawa-san, I don’t know if we’ll be able to keep Shinsou-kun at UA. There are few enough foster families available in that district and Shinsou-kun is a difficult child to place --though no fault of his own, of course.” She added that last in a hurry and Shouta felt his fists clench.

“Where are you currently?” Shouta needed to have eyes on the kid for reasons he couldn’t quite justify even to himself. “I will also be honest with you since you’ve been honest with me. I can’t take your word for it that Shinsou is safe. UA has had heightened attention from villains this year and a call from a stranger after hours saying one of my students who just displayed a very powerful quirk on a national broadcast will be missing from school is concerning at  _ best. _ ”

“I… oh, I suppose so.” Mika-san fretted. “Yes, all right. It might be best to talk this out in person.” She rattled off an address that matched one of the Municipal Family Welfare offices when Shouta looked it up. “The elevator will be locked, but I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

“I will be there soon.” 

Hizashi was still bopping around the kitchen when Shouta came upstairs. Izuku was asleep  _ somehow _ on the couch so at least one of his problem children was safe and accounted for. 

“There’s a student emergency.” He told Hizashi when his husband turned around and noticed that Shouta was back in his full gear. “I’ll try to be back soon.”

“You know, I’d like to go one year without one of the kids getting into trouble with the law after the sports festival.” Hizashi sighed. “I’ll keep your dinner in the oven if you run too late.”

Shouta didn’t trust himself to speak and just nodded.

He took a car share to the family welfare building. It was -ironically- a building he’d once thought he’d never set foot in again. Someone had found money for some renovations here and there in the past thirteen years although the tile floors were still worn. The biometric scanners were new. There’d still been an ID card system on the elevators when he’d aged out of the system.

Mika-san was waiting where she said she’d be at the abandoned receptionist’s desk. She was a slight, middle-aged woman with graying black hair and the beginnings of crow’s feet around her eyes. Her smile was tired, but genuine.

“Aizawa-san. I’m glad you could make it.” She opened an elevator with her palm print. “I left Hitoshi-kun asleep on the sofa outside my office. Let’s head up. I’d rather he didn’t wake up alone. He’s had a rough evening already.” Her mouth twisted unhappily.

He’d had a rough day that should have ended well, but Shouta didn’t point that out.

True to her word, Shinsou was curled up on his side with his long underfed body wedged uncomfortably onto a two-cushion sofa. It was like looking back through time at himself. Shouta watched him sleep and gave up any pretenses about his reasons for coming out to see them.

There was no way he could go home without that kid.

“As you can see, he’s in one piece.” Mika-san smiled fondly at the sleeping teenager. “If you’ll come to my office, we can discuss things.”

“One moment, I need to text my partner.” Shouta said as he pulled out his phone.

* * *

**Sho <3** : About to do something stupid and impulsive.

Hizashi squinted at his phone, wondering if he could possibly be misinterpreting. 

**Zashi** : lol should i air out the other bedroom?

There was a worrisome pause before:

**Sho <3** : Yes

and then…

**Sho <3** : Love you 

Hizashi burst up from his spot on the couch swatting in Izuku’s general direction. “Zuku! Izuku! Up!”

Izuku woke up with yelp and fell onto the floor. “Mic!” He blinked hard, trying to wake up. “Wha… what?”

“Go upstairs and turn on the fan in the spare bedroom please.” Hizashi ran to the kitchen. “Shouta is bringing someone home!”

“O-oh?” Izuku staggered upright. Still looking confused. Poor kiddo. “Okay!”

Hizashi followed him up there once he’d reassured himself they had enough side dishes to feed four and had to stop in the hallway for sec. “Izukun?” He watched a dust cloth run itself over the empty bookshelves while Izuku stripped the bed with his eyes half shut. “Are you… are you doing that?” He pointed at the dust cloth… no, dust  _ cloths _ . There were two of them and a dust pan. Wonderful.

Izuku blinked slowly at him. “I don’ wanna touch it.” He explained blearily, still drooping with sleep.

“Alright.” Hizashi allowed. “Fair. Give me the sheets to wash. You can go back to your nap.”

“Mmm.” Izuku nodded, but his gaze was distant. 

Even more alarming, the dust clothes kept working even as he stumbled back downstairs. 

“Kiddo, do you need to supervise these things?” Hizashi called over the bannister. He was having a Sorcerer’s Apprentice flashback and this was not the time for his house to get overtaken by sentient brooms.  _ Never _ was the ideal time for sentient brooms.

“Sokay.” Izuku said as he face-planted back onto the sofa. “I see better without my eyes.” 

Hizashi considered that statement and decided he was going to pretend he hadn’t heard it.

Hopefully whoever Shouta was bringing back had strong nerves.

* * *

Hitoshi’s ears were still buzzing as Aizawa-sensei let him in through the front gate.

Part of him was still back in Mika-san’s office trying and failing to understand that he was going home with his teacher not just for the night, but for the foreseeable future.

“The others are still up.” Aizawa said as he held his hand to a palm plate by the front door. “Good.”

Hitoshi wondered what he was looking at in terms of others; a wife? Roommates? Elderly parents? Other foster children? Biological children? Aizawa hadn’t said much beyond ‘You’re coming home with me.’

He had no idea what to expect, but the neat house in front of him with it’s softly glowing golden windows wasn’t it. He clutched his bag, heart in his throat as they went inside.

Inside, the house was tidy enough. It was cluttered by the Hakoda’s sterile standards, but comfortably so with a pile of shoes by the door and cheerfully eclectic decor. Nothing quite matched anything else, like whoever furnished the place had picked out individual pieces without caring how they went together, but it was all clean and unworn. The air smelled like food and Hitoshi’s stomach gurgled in anticipation.

“We’re home.” Aizawa called out and a familiar green head with  _ spectacular _ bed hair popped up over the back of a dinged up leather sofa.

Midoriya blinked at them, slowly waking up as he stared right back at Hitoshi. “S-shinsou?” He asked. “Mic!” He hopped up and ran over to a set of stairs leading upstairs. “Mic, it’s Shinsou!”

An unfamiliar person in lean torn jeans, bare feet, and an artistically slashed tank top emerged onto the exposed upstairs landing with a laundry basket propped on his hip. His long blonde hair was in a messy bun at the base of his neck and he wore the clunkiest pair of old man glasses that Hitoshi had ever seen.

Was that…? Was that what Mic-sensei looked like when he was dressed down?

“Heeeey!” Mic grinned wide and delighted. “Welcome home, boys. Izuku, why don’t you show Shinsou his room? Yeah?”

Midoriya bobbed his head eagerly and tugged on Hitoshi’s sleeve. “We’re upstairs.”

He let himself be guided up and past Mic who ruffled his hair in passing. His dreamlike feeling only increased as Midoriya showed him a private room at the end of the hall. It had a single bed, a few bookshelves, a small study desk with a cork board on the wall in front of it, and a low table in the center of the floor. The only smell was the faint residue of wood polish and still air. Midoriya flicked a switch by the door and what Hitoshi had originally mistaken for a weird slatted architectural decoration slid up to reveal a floor-to-ceiling window.

“Mic wants the shutters kept down unless someone is awake and in the room.” He explained. “It’s okay if you forget in the morning though. When they arm the house all the shutters go down.”

Well, it made sense that two Pro Heros would want maximum security. “Is that a camera?” Hitoshi squinted at a little unassuming black ball nestled in the corner of the ceiling where it met the wall.

“Yeah, that’s my fault.” Midoriya ducked his head. “They didn’t always. Sorry. They don’t watch the feed. It’s just for if something happens or if Aizawa wakes up paranoid and needs to do a bed check. Um, do you want help to put your clothes up? Your bedding is still in the dryer.”

“You know what? I’m just going to sit down.” Hitoshi dropped his stuff and crouched down so his head was between his knees. “I just… Aizawa… what? I don’t know what is going on.”

“Oh man, do I know that feel.” Midoriya snorted and pulled Hitoshi’s bag away from him. “Those two don’t waste any time. I guess I never told you how I ended up living with them?”

“I didn’t even know you all lived together.” Hitoshi directed his words at his feet. Part of him felt like he was still napping on Mika-san’s couch. The rest of him felt unmoored from reality all together. “How are you here? Why is Mic-sensei here?”

“Aizawa and Mic are married.” 

That got Hitoshi to look up. Midoriya’s expression failed to crack. He wasn’t lying. 

_ “No fucking way.” _ Hitoshi breathed. Someone had  _ voluntarily _ dated Aizawa long enough to _ marry _ him? Maybe Hitoshi’s own romantic future wasn’t quite as bleak as he’d thought it would be. 

“Way.” Midoriya chuckled and sat down on the carpet in front of him. “You ok? I know it’s a lot.”

“I wasn’t even sure Aizawa really knew my name before now.” Hitoshi admitted. He had enormous respect for Eraserhead as a hero and role model. They had similar manipulator quirks, but Aizawa was a closed book to him otherwise; a book that stared at you like an asshole cat and could crush you with one hand. “My foster family kicked me out and then he just showed up to take me home like it was nothing.”

“Mic gatecrashed my custody hearing. We’d never even met before. I thought he was going to get arrested.” Midoriya said and, uh, holy  _ shit. _ “The court wouldn’t let me go to my emergency guardians. They wanted to keep me in the juvenile detention center. He showed up and charmed the attorney reviewing my case and suddenly…” He made jazz hands. “...here I am. So I get it. I really do.”

“Oh, good.” Hitoshi rubbed his eyes, not sure he had it in him to examine the phrase ‘juvenile detention center.’ That sounded like jail, but no one with working eyes would put Midoriya in  _ jail _ jail. Right? “They’re  _ both _ crazy.”

“Basically.” Midoriya shrugged. “What happened with your foster parents? Aizawa left almost as soon as we got home and didn’t say where he was going. Mic just got a text saying he was bringing someone back, but not who or why.”

“They saw me compete in the Sports Festival. I guess I’ve never used my quirk around them and they didn’t understand how it really works.” Hitoshi still wasn’t sure what he could have done differently other than give up his first match and sacrifice everything he’d worked towards. “They were afraid when I got home. Everyone but my foster father was hiding upstairs and they’d dragged my social worker out to the house. My bag was already packed. He didn’t even want to talk to me.”

Hakoda-san hadn’t talked to him much to begin with, but he’d make agreeable noises on occasion. Hitoshi wasn’t special that way. The only person he’d used full on sentences around was his wife. The foster kids never really blipped his radar until Hitoshi suddenly had.

“I’m sorry.” Midoriya said softly. “He shouldn’t have done that… but at the same time, I’m really glad you’re here.”

“Ha?” Hitoshi squinted at his friend… his new foster brother? No, that felt weird. “What?”

“Why  _ what?” _ He laughed like it was obvious and stood up. “I heard the dryer go off. I’ll go get your sheets and blankets while you change out of your uniform. Mic’ll probably call us down for dinner soon.”

“Wai…” Hitoshi slumped as Midoriya closed the door behind him. Then he grabbed his head and rolled over on the floor as he kicked his feet and tried not to scream. Why was everyone in this house  _ so weird!? _

He’d changed into jeans and a band t-shirt that had aged well enough to look worn-on-purpose by the time Midoriya came back with a folded stack of fragrant laundry, still warm from the machine. The sheets had a glossy, expensive sheen to them and the blanket was thicker than anything he’d been allowed to use since before his parents died. 

“They’re still talking down there. I can tell them to stop if you’re hungry.” He announced and dropped his burden on the bed. “Um… are you okay?”

That was the question of the hour, wasn’t it?

“Not even slightly.” Hitoshi was struggling. Good things didn’t just happen to him and this was officially  _ too much. _ There had to be a catch somewhere. Usually he could tell right away, but this time he couldn’t. 

“Hey…” Midoriya put his hands on Hitoshi’s face and he realized he was wheezing when a wave of sensation he couldn’t quite describe crashed through him. “Sorry,  _ sorry _ . I should have asked, but you looked like you were about to hyperventilate. Mic and Aizawa are great, but they are the actual  _ worst _ when someone is having a panic attack.”

Midoriya was doing something, Hitoshi could tell, but not what. It felt a little like standing under water and after the initial shock it wasn’t a bad feeling at all. His emotions felt blunted and somehow safer.

“I don’t understand.” His voice sounded like it was coming from far away. “Why me?”

“They like you.” Midoriya took his hands away, shaking them out, and the distant feeling started to ebb leaving a more normal sort of calm in its wake. “Mic hasn’t said anything outright, but I think they were trying to adopt for a while and it wasn’t working out.”

Yeah, two gay pro heros. Hitoshi could see some stumbling blocks there.

“What’d you do just then?” He rubbed his temples trying to recapture that eerie tranquility. Would it be weird if he asked Midoriya to to do it again? Probably. Was that going to stop him though? “Was that your quirk?”

“It’s something I can do with it.” Midoriya shrugged one shoulder and looked away. “Sorry, again. I should have asked.”

“Don’t be. That was fantastic. I’m going to make you do it again the next time I get a migraine.” Hitoshi rolled his shoulders. Even his bruises from being iced in the final round felt better. Actually, strike that. They  _ were _ better. Hitoshi looked at his arms. He’d had a narrow ring of green-about-to-be-purple just above his left wrist where his arm had been sticking out of the ice and he’d struggled hard enough to hurt himself. It had turned a mottled shade of yellow-brown. “Are you a healer?”

“No, but I can manipulate and direct energy.” Midoriya got up and started making the bed. “That’s what a lot of healing is. Um…” He shot Hitoshi a guilty little look. “...could you not tell Mic and Aizawa that I used my quirk on you? I scared them pretty bad once and now they’re convinced it’s gonna kill me.”

Hitoshi thought about what he knew about physics, which wasn’t a lot. ‘Energy manipulation’ sounded like it covered a wide territory and big quirks tended to come with an equally big rebound. Also that was a very sketchy thing to ask someone. Hitoshi was instantly suspicious. “... no promises. Did you hurt yourself just now? Cause if you did I will absolutely rat you out.”

“Good to hear.”

They both flinched and turned to see Aizawa leaning against the doorframe, watching them with his arms crossed over his chest and a raised eyebrow. He’d changed out of his baggy hero jumpsuit into normal person clothes that  _ fit _ and Hitoshi’s brain kept trying to reject what he was seeing. Aizawa had even combed his hair back into a messy ponytail and Hitoshi just  _ couldn’t _ . Aizawa looked like a regular person instead of a tired hobo caterpillar and that was just  _ wrong _ . 

“Recovery Girl only benched me for a week and that was almost a month ago.” Midoriya, who was apparently immune to the sight of their teacher in civilian drag by that point, huffed with his hands on his hips like an angry bunny. 

“Too bad. I’m going to make you eat a gel pack anyway.” Aizawa slanted a look in Hitoshi’s direction. “Don’t buy into his bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit!”

Hitoshi decided that hearing Midoriya swear was beyond too much and threw him a line. “Did someone say there was dinner?” The food smells from downstairs were getting to him. 

“Yeah, I came up to get you two.” He pointed at Midoriya. “You, downstairs. Tell Hizashi what you did.” He turned his finger on Hitoshi. “You, hang back for a second.”

Hitoshi hung back as instructed while Aizawa leaned out the door to make sure Midoriya went where he was told. “Are you all right?” He gave Hitoshi a once over. “Izuku has the self preservation instincts of a depressed lemming, but he doesn’t go looking for excuses to use his quirk. What happened?”

“I got overwhelmed and he calmed me down.” Hitoshi shoved his hands into his pockets and hoped this conversation would end fast.

Aizawa watched him for a long pause with one of those flat expressions that Hitoshi could never interpret. “You’re secure here.” He said after a while. “It might have seemed impulsive when I came to get you, but it wasn’t. Hizashi and I like you. When you mentioned you were in foster dare, we’d discussed the possibility of meeting with your caseworker. We’re not going to change our minds in a week or kick you out as soon as you turn eighteen.”

That remained to be seen. Hitoshi had been on the receiving end of the ‘I’m not like your other foster parents’ speech a few times and hadn’t ever really bought into it. This time, though, he wanted to believe. It was dumb and he was probably going to get hurt. That didn’t change anything though.

“Okay.” Hitoshi sounded like a little kid even to himself. “I… alright.”

“Come on.” Aizawa stepped out of the doorway. “They’re waiting for us.”

Midoriya was setting the table with the spout of a melon flavored Calorie Mate pouch clenched between his teeth while Mic-sensei filled bowls and plated side dishes by the stove.

“There they are!” Mic-sensei called out. “I hope you like pumpkin. We already cooked before Sho said you were coming. Let me know if there’s anything you don’t eat.”

“I’m not picky.” As a general rule, Hitoshi ate just about anything that didn’t eat him first. Most of his foster families served basic japanese fare; broiled fish, rice, soup, and pickles. It was easy and predictable. As a result though, he didn’t have a very discerning palate. Still, the spread looked good; simmered kabocha dressed with its own roasted seeds, little bowls of stir fried greens with egg, cups of clear onion soup, rice studded with bamboo shoots, and a shaved turnip salad. Well, of course it looked good. Midoriya’s lunch boxes alone spoke volumes about how well they ate in this place. 

His stomach chose that moment to complain.  _ Loudly. _

Mic-sensei laughed while Hitoshi prayed for the floor to swallow him. “Well, there’s plenty if you want seconds.” He said reassuringly. 

Hitoshi took a spot next to Midoriya, but definitely not because he needed a familiar face nearby. Mic-sensei and Aizawa took the other chairs with a sort of casual familiarity that suggested he hadn’t stolen anybody’s usual spot. 

The table was quiet for the most part as they ate aside from a polite ‘itadakimasu’ as everyone got started. Hitoshi already knew that the food would be good, but the act of eating at a table with other people added another dimension to the experience that made it hard to swallow. Given how late he usually got home, Hitoshi was used to eating by himself. It was a mixed blessing. No one could pilfer from his plate, but his options were limited to whatever was leftover from the main meal.

Midoriya broke the silence when he finished his pouch and flicked it into the air. It hung there for a second and then drifted over to the waste basket.

“Reduced points for quirk use. Five for style.” Mic-sensei chuckled. “Also, preferable to the dust cloths.”

Aizawa frowned. “The  _ what?” _

“Nothing!” Mic-sensei stuffed his mouth with food and refused to explain further under the pretext of needing to chew very, very slowly.

Aizawa’s eyes narrowed and he turned on Midoriya. “Kid, what did you do?” His tone implied  _ ‘this time.’ _

“Nothing!” Midoriya copied Mic-sensei and took a big bite of his own dinner that, alas, he couldn’t seem to talk around either. 

There was a tic starting just underneath Aizawa’s left eye, opposite his scar. “I  _ will _ find out.” He growled without heat.

Neither Mic-sensei nor Midoriya seemed too concerned and Hitoshi realized, far too late, that they were  _ playing _ ; even Aizawa.

They kept it up for the rest of the meal. At one point Midoriya got up to serve himself seconds and took Hitoshi’s plates without asking. He brought them back topped up instead of putting them in the sink.

“Oh, uh.. Thanks. How did you…?” Hitoshi squinted at Midoriya.

“Izuku, remember that talk we had about using our words?” Mic-sensei reached over to lightly poke Midoriya in the cheek. “Just because you can hear something doesn’t mean you should act on it. Ask first.”

“Sorry!” Midoriya winced. “You’re right. I, um, sorry again, Shinsou.”

“Mind telling me what you’re sorry for?” Hitoshi asked. Originally he’d let Midoriya get away with not explaining his quirk because he struggled with asking questions around people he liked and who he wanted to like him. Then he’d wanted to figure it out himself. Now he was just confused. 

“I can sense feelings a little bit.” Midoriya seemed very absorbed in his dinner all of a sudden. “Just basic, loud stuff like pain and distress.”

… or like hunger. Hitoshi winced. He must have been a delight to be around in that case. Between his growth spurts and increased physical training, Hitoshi hadn’t  _ not _ been hungry since the start of the year. They’d fed him all right at the last house, but he had a black hole where his stomach used to be. He’d wondered why Midoriya was always sneaking him protein bars or always conveniently brought too much for lunch after that failed experiment in the Great Mess Hall. Now he had his answer.

“Well, shit.” Hitoshi cupped the back of his neck, feeling awkward. “I guess I’m sorry too?”

“ _ Shinsou _ .” Midoriya put his elbow into Hitoshi’s side. “Quit apologizing for dumb stuff.”

Hitoshi brought his own elbow down on Midoriya’s fluffy head, momentarily forgetting that they were at a civilized dinner table and not in the faculty crash room where they could talk trash. “Make me, shrimp.”

The sound of a shutter reminded him where they were. Mic-sensei had his phone out and stars in his eyes. Aizawa looked marginally less bored than usual.

Hitoshi realized his throat wasn’t tight anymore. 

He didn’t think about that photo again until the next morning. 

Contrarily, Hitoshi slept deep and hard that night when a day like the one he’d had would have usually left him too wound up to even close his eyes. He was asleep almost the second his head touched the pillow, which smelled of nothing except mild laundry soap.

He was also a fairly light sleeper. Interrupted sleep was as common for him as no sleep. People moving around in the room at night was a one-way ticket to No Sleep Not Ever for him. Normally.

Hitoshi stared down at the small stack of glossy photographs sitting on the (his?) previously empty desk and wondered if he was going to have to redefine ‘normal.’

He picked up the photograph on top and stared at the unfamiliar expression on his own face. He was roughhousing with Midoriya at the table with his head ducked, but not enough to disguise the white slash of a smile on his face that he hadn’t even been aware of. 

There were others; Hitoshi and Aizawa talking as they washed dishes side by side, Midoriya asleep and drooling on Hitoshi’s shoulder while they both pretended to be watching TV, a group selfie taken by Mic where he had his pouting spouse in a chokehold while Midoriya and Hitoshi held up peace signs for the camera.

On the back of the group selfie was a short note in Mic’s loopy handwriting.

‘Welcome home, Hitoshi.’

This time he  _ was _ aware of his small, hesitant smile even as he took that picture and pinned it up right in the center of the bare cork board.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Another chapter! Sorry this was delayed, I got into working on a Bakugo POV sequel to Paper Agency. I have no excuses.


	9. Part Nine

Saturday morning found Shouta back at UA; not at home getting Shinsou settled, resting up for his patrol, or catching up on his ever-mounting backlog of grading. To add insult to injury it was for the most illogical purpose he could have possibly imagined.

_“No.”_

Shouta didn’t even have to consider Nedzu’s request. He started to get up, only for a heavy gloved hand to fall down on his shoulder. He very slowly turned his head to stare at Pro Hero Velocity -otherwise known as Iida Teijo- until the man removed it.

“Eraserhead, please. I wouldn’t be asking unless I was desperate.” Velocity had taken his helmet off at the beginning of the interview and it was like looking thirty years into Iida’s future if you ignored the deep shadows underneath his eyes and the fact that he clearly had not showered in a while. 

“You didn’t talk to Ingenium before coming here.” Tensei would never have agreed to experimental therapy from a teenager, much less one who’d already landed himself in the hospital once.

“I did.” Velocity countered, unexpectedly. “He’s not… _pleased_ , but he’s willing to try. It’s for Tenya’s sake as much as his. My younger son took the news of Tensei’s accident very badly. He’s angry all the time, but won’t talk to anyone.” Velocity’s jaw worked. “His mother found evidence on one of the house computers that Tenya is tracking sightings of the Hero Killer. We think he might make an attempt on Stain and we are grasping at straws.”

That struck a chord. Shouta hadn’t been on the ground when Iida abandoned the tournament, but Snipe had and he’d been _very_ worried even without knowing what had happened to Ingenium. Even so, Hizashi would murder him if he put Izuku back in harm’s way.

“This is a good opportunity.” Nedzu was perched on top of his desk for the height advantage. “Midoriya-kun is overdue for a real quirk assessment. If you let her oversee the session Chiyo-san can submit her observations to the Quirk Registry Board. That would make it harder for them to continue to deny Yamada-kun’s appeals for a re-evaluation.” He paused. “...and if you will permit the observation, finding out what your ward’s limits are when he’s rested and prepared might be good therapy for you as well.”

_“Me”_ was his flat reply.

“Yes, you.” Nedzu usually made an effort at replicating human expressions, but at the moment he wasn’t giving Shouta even that much insight into his thoughts. “I spoke with Chiyo. She told me you declined her offer to tutor Midoriya-kun in healing.”

Despite his best effort, Shouta’s jaw clenched. “The kid only has so many hours in a day and getting him to take downtime is already an uphill fight. When he came to us he had a budding exercise addiction and only slept four hours a night. The only reason he’s taking better care of himself is because he doesn’t want to upset us, not because he thinks it’s a good idea. His healing is inherently self destructive. I’m not going to invite him to backslide the weekend right before he tries out for Heroics. I don’t set children up to fail.”

No one called him on the fact that normally he would not have given a single solitary fuck about that, but Shouta didn’t need it pointed out.

He did not expect Nedzu to counter with: “All the more reason to test him now.”

Shouta frowned. “How do you figure that?”

“I do agree with you regarding Midoriya-kun’s learned behaviours. However, I am also aware of how badly he wants to be a hero.” Nedzu permitted himself a smile. “This is the time when he is least likely to risk injury. Do you think he won’t encounter an injured teammate during an exercise or work study trip? I’d prefer to know now what precautions we’ll need to put into place in order to prevent him from damaging himself. Almost all Recovery Heroes hurt themselves in school at least once, usually far more than once. I’d prefer not to have a UA student add to that statistic. Your experience at the USJ was traumatic, but ignorance won’t help us protect him from himself.”

Heat crept up from Shouta’s collar. Whether it was embarrassment or rage, he couldn’t say. Nedzu was trying to manipulate him. That alone was enough to make him dig his heels in.

Iida’s mother, Celerity, had been quiet aside from their initial greeting. She wasn’t a passive sort, but it was clear that she had not slept since her son’s attack and had to ration her energy. Now she spoke. “You want to keep that boy.” It wasn’t really a question. “Custody battles are expensive, even the amicable ones, and I mean expensive by Pro Hero standards. I’ve had to support enough of my sidekicks through them to know. You need money; not just money but ready _cash_. If you allow your ward to evaluate Tensei I will pay you one million yen right now. If he can save my son then we have another four million prepared. Moreover, I will throw the combined weight of our agency’s legal team behind you if you have to fight in court.”

Whatever Shouta’s face did in that moment made Velocity flinch back. Celerity did not. She matched him with her own cool stare.

“Asuga, love, please.” Velocity went to her side. “You’re insulting…”

“No, this my son at stake; _both_ our sons.” She did not take her eyes off Shouta as she spoke. “There is nothing I would not dare.”

* * *

Hizashi stared down at the two laundry baskets at his feet. Neither of them were more than half full. 

The basket on the left had two pairs of cargo shorts and four nearly identical tshirts in it, two of which were plain white shirts that read TSHIRT in black lettering across the front. Everything else in there was workout clothes or close enough to make no nevermind. 

The basket on the right had one pair of jeans that was more hole than jean, a motley collection of old threadbare t-shirts that not even Hizashi could excuse as ‘vintage’, and exactly one dress shirt. That basket had no casual workout gear at all, just the standard UA gym set. All of it smelled very faintly of tobacco ashes. According to Hitoshi, his former foster mother had been an on-again-off-again smoker; never in the house, but she would linger on the balcony with a cigarette after hanging up the laundry. It wasn’t overwhelming, but the scent stood out in their house so everything Hitoshi brought with him had to go into the wash.

Hizashi crouched down balancing on the balls of his feet with his arms crossed as he stroked his moustache and wondered how he - _he!_ \- could have let this state of affairs come to pass. Sure, Shouta was a walking fashion aneurysm and only dressed in one color (black), but even he would consent to owning more slacks than he could wear at one time. 

There was a logical explanation for it, of course. 

Hitoshi had the excuse of shitty and/or underfunded foster families. Izuku presumably had more clothes at the crime scene he used to live in. Up until recently, Hizashi had been doing everyone’s laundry in the same batches because Izuku was small enough that he could tell what belonged to who. That wouldn’t do with a new addition to the household. Hitoshi was about the same size as Shouta and so Hizashi had gotten each of the boys their own hampers --resulting in the revelation that his kids both dressed like thrift store rejects. 

The front door slammed. 

Ah, Sho was home and in almost exactly the mood Hizashi had predicted when they’d woken up to a very polite email from Nedzu waiting in Sho’s personal inbox.

“Welcome back!” Hizashi called down the stairs. He heard Shouta’s steps halt, reverse, and move to the stairs. “What did the principal want?”

“The fucking _moon.”_ Shouta snarled. He looked around. “Where are the boys?”

“In the gym. Hitoshi wants to learn more grappling so I told them to go play.” It occurred to Hizashi that, through no fault of their own, neither boy actually had all that much to _do_ except study, train, or do chores. That was something else he was going to have to worry about in addition to the deplorable state of their wardrobes. It wasn’t healthy to work all the time and while he’d never managed to get that through Shouta’s thick skull maybe it wasn’t too late for the kids.

That diverted Shouta’s attention briefly. “Did they finish their homework?”

“You’re such a _teacher.”_ Hizashi sighed, but that brought up another thought. “Yes, but they had to take turns using my computer. Izuku’s been using the computer lab at school so I didn’t think of it, but they’re going to need their own laptops soon. I’m going to start assigning research papers in the next few weeks and we cannot be splitting one computer and your tablet between four people when that happens.”

“Shit, kids are expensive.” Shouta pushed his bangs out of his face. “Well, we might have just gotten some help with that.”

Hizashi listened to Shouta explain his meeting with Nedzu, Velocity, and Celerity with a growing sense of unease. “I heard Tensei got hurt. No one said how bad it was though.” You got used to the idea of healers being able to perform miracles. It was frightening when suddenly they couldn’t. “We don’t need the Iidas’ money. We can get the boys whatever they want.”

The offer of help with their custody issues was more tempting, but at the same time the idea of using the Iidas’ influence to keep Izuku made Hizashi feel uneasy. He didn’t want to give the boy up, but he also didn’t want to be another adult brute forcing their way through Izuku's life without taking his wants into consideration. No matter what kind of person his mother ended up being, Izuku loved her. Hizashi wanted to believe there was a better way. 

“Izuku might. It’d be his money really since he’d be the one doing the work.” Shouta sat down on the top step. “Chiyo wants to supervise. She’s still curious about how his healing ability works, but she won’t let the operation proceed unless we both agree.”

It was nice to know Recovery Girl was in their corner at least.

“You’re thinking about it.” Hizashi observed, which was surprising. Of the two of them, only Shouta had any personal experience with Izuku’s healing and he’d taken a near irrational aversion to it. Hizashi, though, was warming up to the idea of letting Izuku off the leash as time passed and he got a better idea of how responsible the kid could be with his own limits --especially once he’d watched Izuku clean up Hitoshi’s bedroom from another floor while half asleep. He’d suspected for a while that they’d both been underestimating the kid.

He squinted at his husband, trying to figure out Shouta’s angle. 

“Is this because he was mad at you last night?” Hizashi guessed. Izuku hadn’t been _mad_ , but Shouta didn’t really differentiate well between ‘vaguely annoyed’ and ‘actually upset’ when it came to the people close to him. He wasn’t used to caring about the opinions of other people so when it happened he worried over it like a dog with a bone all while pretending he wasn’t. Their first fight as a couple took over a month to really get resolved because Shouta kept starting it over again trying to get a clear resolution when Hizashi had been trying to let it slide. 

“He keeps saying that healing me was different.” Shouta said at last. “I’m thinking about giving him a chance to prove it in a controlled setting. Chiyo would also help us get an appointment with the registry board.”

“Oh, well, in that case I’m alright with it if Izuku thinks he can help.” Hizashi had had it up to his neck with the board’s scheduling service, which had decided to just run him in circles if he wouldn’t go away on his own. “We should check and see if he does.”

“...if I can what?”

Hizashi looked downstairs to see the boys had emerged from the basement. Hitoshi looked about two steps away from death, but Izuku was fresher than a spring daisy. “Izuku, mind coming upstairs? The Principal is asking for a favor.” He squinted at Hitoshi, who had the stiff look of a good, albeit painful sparring session. “Hitoshi, do you need someone to run you a bath?”

“I can do it.” He wheezed, staggered up the stairs, and into the main bath with the single minded determination of someone who was in a fair amount of pain. He was still moving though. He was probably fine. Izuku wouldn’t have let him get injured or stay that way if he did, speaking of miraculous healing. He made a note to lend the kid a change of clothes before he got out. 

“There’s epsom salts under the sink. Put some in the water before you get in and it’ll help.” Hizashi called after him and smiled at the sad warbled _‘thaaaanks’_ that filtered down the hall.

“What does Nedzu-sensei need?” Izuku asked. 

“There’s a hero who’s been hurt.” Hizashi explained. “The healers who’ve worked on him have done what they could, but right now it looks like he’s probably going to have to retire. They don’t think he’s going to be able to walk again.” Izuku made a noise at that, like that was the worst thing he could possibly imagine. “Recovery Girl has been looking for a test patient for you. They’re not expecting you to fix everything, but Ingenium has agreed to let you use him as a demonstration case so we can start understanding your limits.”

He decided not to mention the youngest Iida. Izuku didn’t need that kind of pressure.

“I-Ingenium!?” Izuku squeaked and… _huh_. Hizashi had known sort of that Izuku was an All Might fanboy. He somehow hadn’t realized that the kid had other favorites. Izuku looked absolutely dismayed. “He got hurt? What about his agency? He has so many sidekicks!”

“His parents aren’t about to let his agency founder. If nothing else they only have to keep it running until his brother is out of school.”

“I… okay.” Izuku nodded for extra effect. “I’m willing to try. When was he hurt? I do better with fresh injuries.”

Shouta answered. “It was yesterday during the Sports Festival. If you agree, the Iidas will send a car right away.”

“What, _right_ _now?”_ Hizashi frowned. They had Izuku and Hitoshi’s tryouts on Monday. “It can’t wait until later in the week?”

“Sooner is better.” Izuku frowned, looking pensive. “It might already have been too long if other healers have been working on him.”

Shit. Hizashi was regretting his easy capitulation.

“If we let you do this…” Shouta started. He pinned Izuku with a sober look and the kid gulped, twisting the hem of his shirt in his hands. “ _If_ we let you do this, you will promise me that you will respect your limits. If you end up in a hospital bed then you can kiss your chance at Heroics goodbye.”

“I… yes, sir.” Izuku told the floor. “I understand.”

“Do you? What happened at the USJ cannot _ever_ happen again. I don’t care who is at risk.” Shouta continued. “Overextending yourself places the burden of your safety on your teammates. If it happens when you’re alone then you will have signed your own death warrant.”

“Mmm.” The kid had wilted and it was pretty clear he was not getting the message Shouta was trying to get across. 

“Hey.” He caught Izuku by the shoulder coaxing him around so they were facing one another. ”Do you know the first duty of a hero?”

Sure enough, the kid had been tearing up. He sniffed. “To save people?”

“Nope.” Hizashi chucked him under the chin. “It’s to come back safe. That seems counter intuitive, but when your job is to put yourself in danger then you have an obligation to your family and loved ones to fight your way back home. So you respect your limits, you fight smart, and when you get cornered you don’t give up. So if you have to choose between Ingenium and yourself then think of us and choose you.”

“‘Kay...” He seemed like he was listening so Hizashi was willing to take it. He’d never met a hero who learned that lesson on the first try anyway. 

“Why don’t you go get cleaned up?” He suggested.

They probably wouldn’t have much time once Shouta let the Iidas know they were on board. 

* * *

Aizawa and Midoriya were gone by the time Hitoshi felt human enough to leave the bathtub.

His new guardians weren’t fancy people, but he’d started to identify the things they cared about enough to invest serious money into; the coffee machine, the security system, their private gym, and now a soaking tub with sides tall enough for Hitoshi’s shoulders and knees to be under water at the same time and integrated heater, music player, and chromatherapy lights. 

Mic had left him a spare pair of sweats folded on top of the washing machine, which Hitoshi hadn’t expected and had to spend a little time wrestling with his emotions over. Living here had been a lot of those moments of unanticipated displays of care; little things that normal people probably didn’t even notice like a change of clothes and a fresh towel they hadn’t thought to ask for. 

He’d left the bath with a vague idea of going to bother Midoriya, but found Mic downstairs futzing around on Aizawa’s tablet and looking unhappy instead.

Present Mic in civilian mode was slightly less weird to see than it had been the day before. He was dressed a little bit less like cutting edge Shibuya hipster trash anyway and maybe the sight of Aizawa in leisure pants had raised Hitoshi’s bar for incredulity higher than it had been. He had his hair mostly back in a bun with the ends fanned out at the nape of his neck and a different pair of tinted square glasses.

“Where did everyone go?” Hitoshi asked as he padded down the stairs. He’d already noticed the way people tended to congregate in this place.

“The hospital.” Mic turned off the tablet and set it down on the coffee table. He took off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. “I think I made a bad decision.”

“Is everyone okay?” Hitoshi asked with mild alarm. He hadn’t been in the tub _that_ long. How had someone managed to get hurt in that small a window? 

“Shouta and Izuku are fine. It was someone else; a school friend of ours. His family asked if Izuku could help.” 

“Really, and Aizawa let them?” Hitoshi would not have predicted that, not with the way he’d acted the night before. “You said the late start tryout for Heroics is next week."

“He’s trying to do better; be more trusting. It’s not going well.” Mic shook his head. “I just hadn’t expected them to take off right away.”

“Is his quirk that special?” Hitoshi had a hard time believing it. No matter how amazing Midoriya’s quirk was there had to be a more qualified adult who didn’t have an _important event_ coming up that he needed to be prepared for. 

_‘If that jerk screws up at the eleventh hour…’_ Hitoshi could manage on his own just fine, but he’d just gotten used to the idea of having a friend at school. Having a friend in his own class was a new and tantalizing possibility hovering just within his reach. It was selfish but he didn’t want that chance to be yanked away.

“Yes and no. Come here. We were going to have to talk about this anyway. Might as well do it now.” Mic patted the couch next to him. “How much do you know about the USJ incident?”

“Midoriya told me some.” Hitoshi took a careful seat, feeling like he needed to be ready to run for no ready reason. “He told me his dad was there and wanted him to hurt Bakugo for some reason. ‘Hurt’ was probably a euphemism.”

“That’s… accurate.” Mic looked sad. “You know Shouta got hurt in the fighting too.”

That had been hard to miss. Eraserhead had been black and blue for weeks, although it hadn’t slowed him down any. Hitoshi just nodded not trusting himself to speak. He hadn’t had strong feelings about it at the time, but things changed. 

“It was originally much worse. Izuku got to him and fixed the worst of it, but ended up in the hospital afterwards.”

Soooo Midoriya had saved the life of Mic’s husband. It explained why he’d crashed Midoriya’s custody hearing. Hitoshi had wondered about that; if there’d been some weird UA conspiracy involved or if it had been just serendipity. Midoriya’s life was just too weird.

The hospital thing unnerved Hitoshi though. He could count the number of friends he had one one hand and not even use all his fingers. Aizawa suddenly made a lot more sense to him. 

“In his defense, apparently they had him locked in a basement with no food or water for a while before letting him out.” Mic admitted. _What._ “We need to get an idea of where his actual limits are, yeah, but the timing could have been better.”

Upstairs, in his luxurious high tech bath, Hitoshi had wondered where the catch was.

Every good thing in his life had come with strings attached; big obvious ones, mostly. He hadn’t been able to tell where the strings were when Aizawa had stood over him in Mika-san’s shabby office and said, “You’re coming home with me.”

Now he was starting to see it. 

He had a beautiful house to live in, great amenities, good people who wanted to be his family and encourage his dreams, and in return they were all going to make him _tear his hair out_. 

* * *

The man in the bed was badly hurt.

Izuku spent some time just looking at him through his eyes and through the Force. He was lucky to be alive. His blood volume was low even after multiple transfusions. Mending him wouldn’t be an issue of feeding his body energy and telling it to repair itself. That might have worked if he’d been the first one on the scene, but this time the healing that had already been done on him was going to be a big part of the problem.

“What do you think, sonny boy?” Recovery Girl asked. At least she was the only one in the room with him aside from their patient.

“I can help, at least.” Izuku hated that non-answer. “It’s not a ‘new’ injury anymore. I’ll have to build him up some first. He’s still pretty weak.”

“Start with that, but conserve your energy.” She hopped onto a stool. “Remember, this is a marathon. Don’t wear yourself out right away.”

That was another part of the problem, Izuku acknowledged. Ingenium had more than one session’s worth of damage in him, but the longer they took the more Izuku would have to work against. 

He reached out and laid a hand on Ingenium’s stomach, glad that the hero was asleep for this part. He closed his eyes and ‘watched’ as the superficial wounds on his patient’s body knit shut. A deeper scan revealed surprisingly few internal injuries, but Izuku took a moment to close anything the previous healers had missed including a stress ulcer, poor guy. Sixty five sidekicks would do that to you, Izuku supposed. He considered creating new blood from nothing but Force energy to replace what Ingenium had lost, but opted to drain Ingenium’s saline bag and use that as a springboard instead. Blood was mostly water by volume and it was something he already knew how to do, at least. 

“Wait a moment.” Recovery Girl changed out the saline bag out when she saw it wrinkle up on the stand. “There’s a spare here. Do you need me to call for another one?”

“Y-yeah, it’s better to have some mass to work with.” Izuku split his attention with difficulty. “I’ll be able to go further.”

“Good to know.” The old woman went to the room phone to make a call.

Izuku kept working, shoring up Ingenium’s internal processes where he could until he was sure the man’s body could participate in his own healing. Then he stopped for a gel pack. 

_‘This isn’t good enough.’_ Izuku thought as he drained the pack and reached for another. He was already tired and hungry, but he hadn’t really done anything. 

“I like the looks of his vitals.” Recovery Girl observed the machinery surrounding Ingenium’s bed. Izuku couldn’t interpret the readouts, beeping lights, and jagged lines. The noise was lower and some of the numbers had turned green. “Good work.”

Izuku hummed around the spout on his pouch. How _had_ his grandmother done it? In her heyday she’d healed multiple people within a regular hospital shift and then went home to mow the lawn or cook dinner. It had nothing to do with her quirk. She’d been able to change the color of her hair; nothing to do with healing at all. In those days quirk healers had been even more rare.

“I’m coming at this wrong somehow.” He murmured to himself and ignored Recovery Girl’s questioning noise.

Maybe the problem was that _he_ was thinking about it like a quirk. Quirks were straightforward; X amount of energy converted into a single consistent result. Quirk users could get clever with their abilities, but techniques for increasing the actual _efficiency_ of their quirks usually involved conditioning secondary aspects of their bodies like muscle tone or agility.

The Force was _not_ straightforward. X plus Y equalled Z except for when it equalled Blue. The Force was capricious and alien, but oddly helpful at intervals. Maybe, just maybe…

Izuku reached into his bag and pulled out his blindfold. “Ma’am, I’m going to try something. Just… observational for now.” 

“Alright, sonny boy.” Recovery Girl came to sit next to him. “Tell me before you actually try and interact with his spine.”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

He settled in, getting comfortable enough that he could ignore his body without worrying about cramping or falling over. Then he opened himself to the Force. 

Izuku was always aware of the Force to one degree or another. It had movements a bit like tides and localized disturbances. Usually it was like being in the presence of a benign giant who wasn’t really paying attention to him; not so this time. Izuku felt a weird weight settle over and around him. It was like being supported in every direction and he’d never felt anything like it before. 

All his experience with the wider cosmic aspect of the Force had been observational. When he manipulated it, he used the Force energy contained within his own body. While he was technically one small manifestation of the universe, he had never looked at the Force and had it _look back_.

He could hear something that wasn’t sound and feel something that wasn’t touch. Izuku’s first instinct was to pull away. The contact was just on the edge of his ability to perceive it. He couldn’t hear past his own thoughts and feelings.

‘ _Calm down._ ’ He told himself. ‘ _Be still._ ’

A totally different voice whispered ‘ _Open yourself to wisdom_ ’ into his ear and Izuku startled badly.

“Oba…?” He bit down on his lip before the word made it all the way out.

“Beg pardon?” Recovery Girl asked.

“N-nothing. Still looking.” He pulled himself back inside his own head, chasing the state of mind he’d reached just a few seconds before. 

That pressure was still there when Izuku mastered his breathing and calmed back down. It wasn’t amused or displeased. It was just there and waiting. Listening _._ Izuku quieted himself and tried to listen back. Slowly, the sound became whispers and the touch became guidance.

Izuku let his perception be pushed forward towards the form in front of him. The ghostly hands pressed him down, down, down; past skin, muscle, nerves, and bone into the most basic elements of the human body. There, at last, he saw at last what the Force wanted to show him.

DNA.

He was used to thinking of it as odd little coils within the nucleus of a cell on a page in his textbooks, but that wasn’t true really. It was information encoded in a biological format. Every cell in Ingenium’s body contained a complete set of blueprints for his healthiest, ideal state. It was like a restoration point for a computer’s operating system and Izuku finally _understood_ . All he had to do was point, tell Ingenium’s body _‘like that’_ , and give it the fuel it needed in order to execute his order.

Fuel was the issue though. If Izuku was willing to kill himself, he _might_ be able to heal Ingenium in one session. It might have to be one session. Once he got started, he wasn’t sure he could stop.

He needed to talk to someone, but who?

Izuku surfaced with difficulty. The phantom pressure was gone as soon as he made the connection the Force had been leading him towards. 

“I think this is all I can do for the moment. I know what I need to do, but I’m too tired right now.” He croaked and Recovery Girl nodded. She gave him some gummies and directed him to lay down on a little cot Ingenium’s doctors had provided. 

“Any discomfort?” She asked. “I’ll need to look Ingenium over, but if you’re in pain or dizzy then I need to know.”

“I have a slight headache and I’m tired, but it feels like exertion.” Izuku closed his eyes. “I might fall asleep.”

“Go ahead while I check over your work.” Recovery Girl patted his head. “Eat your candies.”

Izuku did end up napping for a bit. Someone wheeled him out of Ingenium’s room while he was asleep because he woke up in a smaller room that looked like the crash room at UA; presumably this one was for nurses. He was alone with a finger monitor. His head felt better and he was hungry again. Fortunately he had his bag and got out a third gel pouch for a quick snack. According to his watch, he’d been out for nearly forty five minutes.

That wasn’t too bad. He’d never worn himself out just _looking_ at something before, but he’d never zoomed down to the cellular level before either. The good news was that he didn’t need to do it again. He already had a reference point. 

“Understanding what needs to be done isn’t helping with the logistics of actually _doing_ it, though.” He sighed and slung an arm over his eyes. 

“No, dear. You still have to do the heavy lifting.” His grandmother agreed.

Izuku burst upright, wide eyed, with both hands clamped down over his mouth to stifle his reflexive shriek. 

His grandmother smiled at him from his bedside looking exactly the way she had the last time they’d met and she’d still been able to recognize him. She was dressed in a kimono with a sedate camellia pattern and her pale hair was dressed in an ordinary bun pinned with a lacquer comb. Izuku could just make out the shape of a magazine shelf through her and her silhouette was rimmed with erratic blue energy.

“Hello, Izuku.” She folded her hands neatly in her lap. “You’ve been very busy.”

Izuku swallowed hard. “Obaasan…” He rasped and resisted the urge to reach out to her. “You came back.”

“Darling, I never left.” She leaned in to cup his cheek and if he closed his eyes he could almost feel it. “We don’t have much time. Your guardian is coming. If you have questions then ask them fast.”

“I-I have _so_ many.” He choked out. 

“I’m sure you do.” She agreed. “Prioritize them.”

“I don’t… I don’t know if I can help Ingenium without hurting myself.” Izuku looked at his hands. “I know what to do, but I promised Aizawa. How did you do it?”

His grandmother looked thoughtful. “It always seemed obvious to me, but we are different people and I was much older when I started my training.” She told him. “Think about the law of conservation of energy.”

Izuku could recite that one from memory. “Energy can’t be created or destroyed, just moved and transformed.”

“That law applies to the Force.” She explained. “When you eat you transform the energy contained in your food into energy your body can use. When you heal you are moving that energy from one vessel to another; yourself to your patient.”

“That’s not fast enough.” Izuku complained. Taking quick snack breaks wasn’t going to be an option. Ingenium’s injuries involved rebuilding part of his nervous system and he didn’t think he could stop in the middle of that, much less digest anything fast enough for it to make a difference. 

“No, it’s not.” She nodded, like he understood. “Digestion is a biological process, but it doesn’t need to be your only option. You are a Force adept. You can manipulate the fundamental element of the universe. We live in a sea of energy. If you exhaust your available reserves then replenish yourself from elsewhere. The Force is a closed system. Nothing is gained and nothing is lost; only moved and transformed. Move energy into yourself, transform it within your body, and transfer it to the patient.”

“But… how?” 

“Observe yourself.” Izuku’s grandmother poked him in the stomach. “The first step of Force Mastery is control; control of the external and the internal. You have a solid grasp of the external. Pay attention to the internal now. Caloric conversion is a relatively simple process to understand after you watch it happen. Once you start paying attention, you’ll see what I mean. It is difficult to describe, but easy to observe.”

Izuku’s attention was diverted by the rattle of the doorknob and when he looked back, he was alone again.

“There you are.” Recovery Girl let herself in. “I thought you might be awake. How are you feeling? Do you need to go home or do you think you’re up for another try?”

“A-another try, please.” Izuku wet his lips. His grandmother had said it was an easy concept, right? He had to try.

Aizawa was still out of sight when Recovery Girl showed him back into Ingenium’s room. The hero was still asleep, but it seemed more restful than before. His expression was looser and he was snoring very softly. When Izuku leaned over he couldn’t see Ingenium’s eyes moving underneath his lids. He wasn’t in REM sleep, but that was probably the anesthesia. 

“You did a lot for his pain levels.” She explained as she herded Izuku back into his chair. “Even if you achieve nothing else, he’ll be more lucid when he comes down off the morphine and he’ll be likely to be released sooner. That is no small achievement.”

“I think I can do more.” Izuku admitted.

“All right.” She gave him a measuring look. “Ingenium agreed to any treatment you can provide, but first _be sure._ This man’s life and future are in your hands. I want you to appreciate the gravity of that trust.”

“I do.” Izuku knew a lot; he knew that Ingenium’s parents were barely holding it together and his little brother was lost in a boiling cloud of rage that might only be sated with blood unless something changed soon. No one had to tell him that. He’d seen it when Aizawa took him past them in the waiting room. “I promise I do.”

The Force apparently agreed with his assessment because when he returned to that meditative state he felt the pressure of its regard on him again. 

Back when he was still alive, Izuku’s grandfather had a habit of saying ‘may the Force be with you’ instead of the more normal ‘be careful.’ Izuku had never considered that it might be an actual thing that could happen, but now for better or worse the Force was _with_ him: draped around him like a clingy friend who didn’t understand or care why personal space was important. 

This time the pressure guided him within his own body where his stomach was busily breaking down the energy gel he’d eaten after waking up from his nap. He watched it for a while. The gel made a very efficient form of energy. The gelatin dissolved almost on contact with his digestive system and… _yes_. Izuku could see what was happening.

He watched a bit longer until he really understood what was happening before he tried to replicate it. It really _was_ easy; a simple inversion of what he already did to lift and direct things outside of himself. He’d learned to do that when he was really little and it had never occurred to him to see what happened if he did the same thing in reverse.

Izuku reached out, careful to avoid the nodes of energy around him that represented actual people and _pulled_.

* * *

Shouta had been penned in the private lounge nearest to Tensei’s room for long enough that he was considering staging an escape. Chiyo and the nurses had been by a few times to give them updates, which indicated that Izuku had helped some so far. It wasn’t the miracle the Iidas had been hoping for, but reassured Shouta somewhat that his own kid wasn’t going to empty himself out for every injury he came across. 

Velocity and Celerity were seated together a short distance away from him with their youngest wedged between them. He’d only had the kid in his class for a short time, but he could already see the root of their concern. Teenagers weren’t subtle when they were up to no good. Iida Tenya was trying to act completely normal, which was not an achievable state for him considering Tensei’s condition and his unabashed brother worship. He wasn’t fine. He was trying to set his parents’ minds at ease so they’d stop watching him so closely and that was bad.

_‘I’ll give it another half hour.’_ Shouta promised himself. _‘Then we’re done.’_

Of course, that was the moment when every machine in Tensei’s room began to scream.

Any pretence of cool Iida had went out the window. He charged out of his parents’ startled arms and blew past Shouta at a speed that blew his hair back. 

“Shit!” Shouta vaulted over his chair, hard on his student’s heels. He could hear Iida already shouting.

“What are you doing? _Get away from him!”_

Shouta skidded into Tensei’s room, heart in his throat, just in time to see Iida pushed slowly back from his brother’s bedside by nothing he could see as the boy fought to get closer, leg engines engaged. The air had that feeling Shouta remembered from his own experience at the USJ; neither hot nor cold, but _heavy_.

“Eraserhead, stop him!” Chiyo shouted.

She didn’t specify which ‘him’, but he could only really interfere with one of them so that was the one he went for. He got his arms under Iida’s shoulders and used his quirk to short out the kid’s engines. Even so, the kid was built like a brick shithouse and pound for pound was almost stronger than Shouta. He might not have been able to pull Iida back if Velocity hadn’t wedged himself in front of his youngest.

Over Iida’s shoulder, he saw Izuku sitting cross legged and quiet in a chair by Tensei’s bed indifferent to the complete chaos surrounding him. Every monitor and machine in the room was shrieking. What monitors he could see past the fighting teenager in his arms all read ‘LOW’ or showed a blinking broken battery. 

More people were piling in behind them, but the invisible wall between them and Tensei’s bed did not budge. Not even Chiyo could get any closer than she was.

“Midoriya, Midoriya can you hear me?” She spoke urgently to the boy. “You need to tell us what you’re doing.”

Izuku murmured something under his breath. It wasn’t a word exactly, more like a broken syllable like he couldn’t quite operate his own mouth. He fell silent again, but there was a crease between his brows like he was concentrating.

One by one the machines began to quiet back down and the interrupted power supply warnings went off. Even Iida stopped fighting to get forward. An oppressive silence fell over the room as they all stared at Tensei and the boy sitting at his bedside until a loud ‘PLINK’ sound startled them out of it and Shouta found himself staring instead at the IV needle that had just shoved itself out of Tensei’s arm and fallen to the ground. 

The weird feeling in the room eased and the invisible wall vanished. Iida sagged forward against his stunned father and Shouta hauled him backwards lest he make another try.

Izuku sat upright and stretched his back like he was waking up from a long nap. Then he peeled off the blindfold he’d been wearing and leaned over to shake his patient awake.

“Ingenium-san?” He sounded kind of groggy, but not in danger of passing out.

Tensei snorted inelegantly awake. “Hah!?” He blinked hard and sat upright in bed, legs crossed in front of him under the blanket without thought as he went from a hard sleep to rude awareness. “What? I’m awake! I’m… Tenya? What’re you doing?”

“You…” Iida slumped and this time Shouta felt safe enough to release his grasp on the kid’s quirk. “...you’re moving your legs.” He rasped.

“Eraserhead, over here.” Chiyo snapped as Izuku listed briefly to one side before correcting himself. 

Shouta got out of the way just in time to not be crushed by Tensei’s family as they piled in, crying, and petting Tensei’s face. Izuku’s stomach growled loudly as Shouta made his way around to check on his own stress headache. 

“Tell me how you’re doing, kid.” He couldn’t quite keep the growl out of his voice. He should have known that this would happen. 

“I’m _starving_.” Izuku let Shouta catch him as he leaned over, too tired to keep himself upright if there was a prop nearby. His confession was muffled by Shouta’s shirt. “... and I’m probably gonna sleep hard tonight.”

“Dizziness?” Chiyo pressed. “Can you move your arms and legs?”

“No. Pins and needles, but I think that’s from sitting.” Izuku looked up and at the door where one of the many white coats running around was beckoning to them.

Izuku wobbled a little bit when they got him out of the chair, but could walk under his own power. Shouta reluctantly admitted to himself that this was better than the USJ and the police’s pictures of Izuku’s bone white and unconscious body bound to a gurney. He was wrecked, yes, but he’d also been holding Iida off with one hand while healing with the other. Privately, Shouta felt a lot better just knowing that option was on the table.

The doctor led them back to the lounge and physically pushed Izuku into a chair and he pulled a penlight out of his pocket.

“I’m going to do a quick evaluation, Shuzenji-sensei.” He said as he shone the light into Izuku’s eyes. “My quirk is Diagnosis so it’ll be fast and non-invasive.”

“That’s fine, Yamazaki-kun.” Chiyo found herself a seat with a tired sigh.

Diagnosis was evidently not an emitter type because Shouta saw no evidence he was using it, but Yamazaki-sensei sat back on his heels after a moment looking satisfied. “He’s worn himself out, but I agree. All he needs is a few solid meals and a good night’s sleep. Kid, what did you do in there?” The last was addressed to Izuku himself.

The boy scrubbed at his eyes like an exhausted toddler. “I can’t tell you all of it. His body did the work, but a lot of it was going on in his nervous system. He might need physical therapy. I don’t know how well he’s going to be able to walk. A lot of his back and legs are new.”

“Ok, we can work with that. I gave him a once over from the door. His care team will be doing more in depth tests, obviously, but so far it looks like your treatment was successful.” Yamazaki-sensei wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding his excitement. “I saw him moving his legs by himself. That’s a huge thing right there. You did good, kiddo. Now, next question: do you know why the machines freaked out?”

“I, um…” Izuku ducked his head and turned hot red. “...I figured something out while I was working on him. I was giving him energy to power his healing, but it doesn’t have to be _my_ energy. Just the right type. I knew not to pull from the people around me, but I forgot that most of the ambient energy around me was contained in the monitoring equipment. Sorry. Did I break anything?”

“Well, hot damn.” The doctor covered his mouth with one hand to hide his enormous smile. “No, son. I don’t think so or that anyone’s going to be upset with you if you did. We were prepared to work with a novice healer and put Ingenium in a quirk shielded room. None of the neighboring suites were affected.” He turned to Chiyo. “So, I’m thinking a power pack as a support item? Maybe a mini-generator? Is it just electricity or can he work with any freeform energy? Solar power, maybe?”

Chiyo smiled tolerantly. “We’ll probably let the Support department workshop some options.”

“Is he good to go home?” Shouta was done. He was _beyond_ done. The only reason he hadn’t put his kid under one arm and walked out already was because Chiyo held grudges.

“Yes, we’ll need to see him again soon for a debrief.” Yamazaki-sensei sobered, sensing perhaps that they were all on Shouta’s very last nerve. “I’d hustle him home before Ingenium’s care team remembers he’s here. Normally they’d need to interview him as the primary healer, but I don’t think he has the background yet to be able to answer all their questions so there’s no point in delaying his aftercare for it. Feed him as much as he’ll eat; lots of fat and complex carbohydrates. Don’t be afraid if he sleeps a lot. His energy levels are technically good, but that was a stressful healing session. He’ll be sore and drowsy for the rest of the day.”

A nurse poked his head into the lounge. “Yamazaki! We need you. Ingenium’s trying to get out of bed.”

“On my way.” He ruffled Izuku’s hair as he jogged past, coattails flapping. “I hope we can work together again soon, kiddo. Fantastic job in there. You’re going to be an _amazing_ Recovery Hero.”

Chiyo waited until he was out of earshot before pressing her index fingers against her temples and groaning. “NDAs.” She sighed and massaged her brow in little circles. “I should have had Ingenium brought to campus so we could have done this in my clinic. I _know_ better. We’re going to need everyone involved to sign an NDA or you’re never going to get a moment’s peace. That boy is already writing an abstract in his head, I can tell. I’ll contact Nedzu and he’ll get someone started on it.”

Wonderful. Exactly what they needed; more attention.

“Are you good for the train or do I need to get us a car?” He asked as the boy in question got to his feet.

“Car, please.” Izuku’s eyelids drooped and Shouta got an arm around his shoulders to steady him. “Um, and maybe a vending machine?”

A snack cake probably was not about to cut it and Izuku had already gone through the gel pouches they’d brought, but Shouta had a granola bar in his pocket. He handed it over for Izuku to inhale with a mumbled ‘thanks.’

Shouta texted Hizashi as soon as they made it out of the building and were waiting on the car.

**Shouta** : Done at the hospital. Kid #1 is intact and upright, but trashed for the rest of the day. Doctors say food and rest, but nothing worse. No fainting.

**Hizashi** : I’ll have lunch ready when you two get home then. How’s Tensei?

**Shouta** : He’s moving his legs. No one is letting him stand up yet. We’ll see.

The gray dots by Hizashi’s name pulsed for a while as he wrote and probably discarded several replies.

**Hizashi** : Well, now we know.

Shouta considered telling his husband that their kid had figured out how to convert electricity into calories, but decided that was an in-person sort of conversation. 

Hizashi sent a picture of Hitoshi laying on the floor in his bedroom wearing a pair of Shouta’s sweats.

**Hizashi** : BTW, This kid needs new clothes. I just put my thumb through one of his shirts by accident because the fabric was so thin.

Considering everything else he had, including his dry-clean only uniforms, carried the persistent clinging hint of cigarette smoke that was probably a good idea. Hizashi would probably get a kick out of dressing someone too. With that in mind, Shouta looked over the dozing teen using him as a prop. Specifically he was looking at the big, unnerving All Might face that took up the entire front of Izuku’s shirt.

He’d been planning to call a halt to all training in anticipation of Monday’s surprise tryouts, but maybe a distraction would work just as well. Assuming Izuku was up to it, he’d earned a reward and Hitoshi needed some stuff of his own that wasn’t threadbare or second hand. 

**Shouta** : Shopping tomorrow? We can get that other stuff then too.

This time the result was instantaneous.

**Hizashi** : Who is this? Why do you have my husband’s phone?

**Shouta** : Hilarious.

He nudged Izuku with his elbow. “Hey, kid. Do you think you’ll be up to some errands by tomorrow?”

Izuku nodded slowly. “Yeah. I know this kind of tired. I’ll be okay.”

He wasn’t sure he liked that answer. “Was this usual when you lived with your father?” Shouta asked.

“Sometimes. When I tried something new.” Izuku’s shrug suggested it had been more than just ‘sometimes.’ “I shouldn’t be sleepy. I think the energy I was making isn’t as effective as what my body makes on its own. I want to sleep, but at the same time I’m too wired to keep my eyes shut.”

That sounded plausible. “You just figured it out today?” 

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while.” Izuku admitted. “My grandmother was the Chief Surgeon at St Luke’s and she used Force healing a lot; multiple patients in a day and major cases. I knew there was something I was missing, just not what.”

“Was she?” Interesting. 

“Yeah, until she had to retire. I think it’s how my dad increases his stamina too.”

“You’ll have to practice using less of your own strength then.” 

“Huh.” Izuku made a thoughtful little noise. 

Shouta frowned. “What?”

“You just gave me an idea, is all.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FORCE GHOSTS! :D


	10. Part Ten

Around four AM, Hitoshi admitted he wasn’t going to be able to sleep. 

That was unfortunately normal when he’d had a big change or upset. Between the new house and the hospital drama, he’d been keyed up all afternoon into the evening. He’d thought getting his ass handed to him in the gym would have been enough to wear him out, but no.

He got up with the vague idea of getting some water and a pre-breakfast snack. Sometimes that helped, but he got distracted by the sliver of light under Midoriya’s door. 

Midoriya was a weird sleeper too, but seemed like one of those people who got by on less unlike Hitoshi who needed the usual amount and just couldn’t seem to get it. They hadn’t lived together long, but he was used to having to figure out the habits of his housemates as quickly as possible. 

Hitoshi tapped lightly at the doorframe and was rewarded with a tired-sounding “Come in.”

Midoriya was flopped on his bed at an angle and wearing his clothes from the day before like he’d fallen down after dinner and hadn’t moved since. 

“Can’t sleep?” Hitoshi guessed and went to go sit down next to the bed so Midoriya could see him without craning his neck.

“Yeah. Too wired and too tired.” Midoriya sighed. “I gotta let this run its course and it sucks.”

Too bad there wasn’t a TV or anything to read. Hitoshi had done his fair share of staring at the walls and Midoriya’s looked especially dreary. Maybe Mic would let them get some posters or something when they went clothes shopping in the morning. Hitoshi’s room wasn’t any better, but Midoriya had lived there longer. What did you even do for sick people? He was usually emphatically unwanted when someone felt bad so he had no idea. “Do you want a magazine or something from downstairs?”

Midoriya just shook his head. “Thanks, there’s some in the closet. I just haven’t wanted them bad enough to get up.”

“Yeah?” Curious, Hitoshi leaned over and poked the sliding door open. The magazines downstairs were all variations on entertainment weekly and Aizawa’s Cat Fancy quarterly. Hitoshi was fine with the cat magazines, but they went heavy on the pictures and there wasn’t a lot else to read otherwise. Mic and Aizawa kept their books in digital format and he hadn’t been brave enough to ask if he could borrow the tablet or if they got pocket money. 

“It’s mostly hero fan zines.” Midoriya warned him. “I didn’t get to bring much with me when the police let me get some of my stuff.”

“Huh.” Hitoshi found the fan zines, but also some beat up (some more than others) composition notebooks and he smiled, wide and slow. “Hero Notes for the Future?”

That got Midoriya to actually sit up. “No!” He didn’t sound panicked, just embarrassed, so Hitoshi pulled one out. He had a choice between volume one or volume thirteen and thirteen looked like it had been through a terrorist attack. He wanted to mess with his friend, not actually break anything so volume one it was. “Hitoshi, no. It’s so bad!”

“Do you _actually_ want me to not look?” He paused before cracking it open. It wasn’t easy to tell what was minor anxiety flailing and what was actual panic for Midoriya so he was trying to remember to check. Hitoshi was reasonably sure this was the first category. 

“I mean, you can. It’s nothing bad.” Midoriya covered his face and rolled over onto his side. “I do hero stats and quirk observations, but that one is from when I was six so I’d segue into stuff like who would win against a Shark Tornado.”

He did more than that. There were entire _storyboards_ of how he thought it would play out too. “Gang Orca, huh?” Hitoshi tilted the notebook this way and that. “How do you figure?”

Midoriya squinted at him. “Killer Whales are dolphins. Dolphins beat up sharks.” He explained, like it should have been obvious. “Gang Orca is a killer whale. Therefore he wins.”

Oh _good,_ Hitoshi was in the mood for a fight.

“...but like, are the sharks controlling the tornado or are they just trapped in it and taking chunks out of anything that gets close? If they’re just along for the ride then All Might would be a better option. He can disrupt localized weather. Sharks flopping around on dry land aren’t nearly as big a problem as angry, confused sharks in a tornado.” 

“Real sharks would suffocate in a tornado. They need water. Some of them even need to be _moving_ in water.” Midoriya countered. “They’d need to be quirk summons to survive more than a couple minutes and summoners rarely have control over manifestations that big, so the sharks are steering. Therefore Gang Orca is the best hero for the job.”

Hitoshi whistled. “I can’t believe you’re arguing against All Might.”

“He could deal with it just fine. He’s a versatile hero, but this is about a specific scenario. Generalists don’t count.” Midoriya paused. “Also he’s not here and he doesn’t need to know.”

“What if the tornado is steering and the sharks are just disguised weaponry? That’s why they didn’t all suffocate on land.” Hitoshi grinned as Midoriya pointed and gaped at him.

“In that case the quirk user has an accomplice and they’re both probably at the epicenter of the tornado so both Gang Orca’s sonic canon and All Might’s air pressure punch would be equally effective.” Mic commented from the door. He grinned as they both jumped. “You two are going to enjoy tactical analysis in second year.” He stepped into the room to look over Hitoshi’s shoulder at Midoriya’s old hero fan art. “If you feel up to it, you should send Kugo a picture of that. He gets so bummed over not having many junior fans. Kids are scared of the face, you know?”

“Oh, um, maybe?” Midoriya looked like he might rather die. “Did we wake you up?”

Mic shook his head. “Not really. I don’t sleep much when Shouta is on patrol.” He grinned. “I had my aids in and heard you two talking. You kids having trouble sleeping?”

They both nodded. “Chronic insomnia and whatever he did this morning.” Hitoshi explained. 

“Still buzzing?” Mic asked Midoriya and nodded sympathetically when Midoriya sighed. “It’s better than being in the hospital, but maybe we can find a workaround. Mind if I join you two? Might as well stay up together.” 

They went through the rest of Midoriya’s junior quirk analyst stuff, which was mostly just fun and hilarious doodles. Midoriya gave up on embarrassment almost at once and happily fought his six-year-old self’s corner whenever anyone (Hitoshi) brought up their (completely legitimate) critiques on his observations. Mic mostly kept out of it, only stepping in sometimes either to mediate or deliberately make the argument worse for comedic effect.

“You okay with us looking at the next one?” Hitoshi asked when they reached the end, which had concluded with a brilliant crayon illustration saying TO BE CONTINUED!

He kinda wished _he’d_ had that kind of creative drive at six.

“Yeah, sure.” Midoriya had migrated down from the bed and propped himself up against his nightstand, which was a carbon copy of the one in Hitoshi’s room. They definitely needed to decorate or something. 

Maybe it was because he had posters on the brain or something, but Hitoshi noticed there were other boxes in the closet. One was full of books in archival cases that screamed ‘do not touch me!’ Another was full of random bric-a-brac and weird tool-like things Hitoshi had never seen before, but the last one though; he pulled it out to get a better look.

“Oh hey. Hero Merch.” He glanced Midoriya’s way to see if he should put it back, but Midoriya just nodded. “Mind if I take a look?”

“Go ahead. Just don’t unwrap anything that’s in packaging.” He warned. “It’s mint.”

Unsurprisingly, the bulk of it was vintage All Might stuff that even Hitoshi recognized as uncomfortably valuable. The packaging looked like Midoriya had picked it up when it was first released too. He even had a trading card of All Might in his debut costume, which most people tried to pretend didn’t happen.

Not everything was mint condition collectibles though. “You’re not going to put any of these ones up?” Hitoshi pulled out an ordinary poster rolled up and held closed with rubber bands.

“Oh, that’s all stuff I had already packed away.” Midoriya sighed a little sadly. “The police didn’t let me take anything that I had on the walls or sitting out in case there might be evidence or something. That’s stuff I was saving or my mom made me take it down because she thought it was too racy. Which one is that?”

Hitoshi had, unfortunately, already unrolled the poster. “Um.” He stared at the contents. It wasn’t porn, which was what he’d worried most about finding. It was almost worse though.

Mic perked up at the word ‘racy’. “How racy are we talking?” He scooched over to look and guffawed. “It’s _me!_ I haven’t seen one of these in _years.”_ He slapped his thigh and took it away from Hitoshi. 

The picture was of a much younger Mic in low slung leather skinny pants, some jewelry, body glitter, and not a whole lot else. He was bent over at the waist leaning in towards the camera with his hair down and a predatory grin as he did something vaguely suggestive with a microphone.

“Yeah, I can see why she wouldn’t let you put this one up.” Mic sighed. “Oh man, I was so _skinny_ then. I could not pull those pants off anymore. I didn’t think anybody followed my glitter rock glamslut phase. Where’d you even get this? You would have been like _three_ when these came out.”

Midoriya blushed and rubbed the back of his head. “I won it in one of your postcard giveaways when I was six or seven. I didn’t know what I was competing for. Your show was one of the hero shows my mom and grandfather let me listen to. When the competition was announced, all they heard was ‘Present Mic merch giveaway’ and helped me do the post cards. None of us actually looked at social media to see what kind of merch. Mom about died when they showed up. Jiisan thought it was hilarious.”

“Oh, that’s a story for the show.” Mic chuckled, but stilled along with everyone else when a floorboard out in the hallway creaked under someone’s weight.

Aizawa stood just inside the door with his knuckles hovering an inch or so away from the doorframe like he’d stopped halfway through knocking. He stared at Mic, who was still holding up the slutty poster of himself.

“Uh, Hi, Sho.” 

Aizawa leaned to one side to get a better look at the poster. “I don’t remember _that_ photo shoot.” He said, tone unreadable.

Mic gulped and looked like he was connecting some dots. “Oh, I guess it was during those two weeks after graduation when we broke up now that I’m thinking about it…”

Hitoshi and Midoriya exchanged a wide-eyed look right before Aizawa snatched the poster right out of Mic’s hands.

“Confiscated.” He said as he left, walking suspiciously fast.

“Wait, Shouta, that’s not mine!” Mic sprang to his feet, ready to pursue.

 _“Confiscated!”_ Aizawa shouted back. 

“Ugh!” Mic pulled on his hair and gave Midoriya the least reassuring smile Hitoshi had ever seen. “I’ll get it back for you, Izu.”

Midoriya and Hitoshi managed to keep a lid on it until their guardians were gone. 

“Oh my _god.”_ Midoriya turned bright, bright red and flopped over on his side. A pillow floated up off his bed and plopped down to cover his embarrassed little face. Maybe he was trying to smother himself. If so then Hitoshi could empathise.

Hitoshi could have been a kind, reassuring friend right then. He could have. Instead he leaned over to peek under the pillow and say, “Your life is so weird.”

The look on Midoriya’s face was worth getting kicked.

* * *

Shouta was _not_ hiding in his office. 

He had grading to get done before they went out for the afternoon and it was logical to do it in the basement where Hizashi never thought to look for him and he was least likely to be interrupted.

Of course, that did not factor in the teenagers. 

Shouta had just gotten into a groove with his red pen when a timid little knock sounded at his closed door; too quiet to be Mic or Hitoshi. Shit. It was Izuku.

“Come in.” He sighed and decided to face the music.

“Sorry to interrupt.” Izuku popped his fluffy green head in the door. He looked a lot better than the day before. After the excitement last night he’d managed to get a few hours of sleep and had eaten his bodyweight in food at breakfast. He’d even tried some of the bacon, although Hitoshi had ended up finishing it for him. “I was wondering about…” He stopped as paper rattled audibly behind the door.

Shouta probably could have played it cool if it had been anyone else, but the look on Izuku’s face said he’d caught Shouta’s involuntary flash annoyance and guilt. The poster had been rolled up for years and the paper was stiff so it wouldn’t lay flat when he’d hung it up and buckled up in the middle.

Izuku walked into the room and closed the door behind him to reveal where Shouta had managed to hide the poster from his rampaging spouse by taping it up to the back of his office door. Then he made a noise like Shouta had killed a puppy in front of him as he touched the taped edges with trembling fingers. 

“Something wrong?” Shouta asked.

“No!” Izuku squeaked. He was lying through his teeth. “It’s ok. I can… I can fix it. It’ll come off. I’m sure it’ll come off.”

Apparently there was something bad about using tape on posters. Shouta had no idea, but he did know that hero otaku got _very_ intense about the condition they kept their merch in. He should have held out for a frame, but Hizashi was relentless and Shouta had needed a hiding spot. 

Well, it was a good opportunity.

“Sorry. I’d like to buy it off you.” Shouta offered and was surprised when Izuku shook his head.

“That’s not, um, feasible. I’m just…” He started to fidget with the edges of the poster “...gonna see what I can do.”

“Seriously, tell me how much.” Shouta got up to follow him and was surprised when Izuku turned to give him a look he wasn’t used to getting from other people; like _he_ was the idiot. Maybe this time he was and it was incredibly uncomfortable.

At least the kid was comfortable enough to be annoyed with him. That was something, although not a very comforting something in the immediate moment.

“Okay, but you asked.” He did a search on his phone and came up with an ebay listing. 

Even Shouta’s inexperienced eyes could tell that the poster being auctioned off wasn’t in near as good shape as the one he’d just apparently defaced. The price seemed reasonable right up until the point where he realized that what he’d mistaken for a decimal had actually been a comma and there was an extra zero. “How the hell does a _poster_ cost 120,000 yen?”

“It’s, um, a limited run and from early in his career right before his popularity took off so not a lot of them survived in good condition.” Izuku explained, closing the window. He got the impression that the kid was trying not to laugh at him. Shouta supposed that meant he’d been forgiven for the tape. “He stopped doing cheesecake and got family-friendly after that too so that’s another level of rarity.”

Still, _120,000 yen._ That was almost as much as the rent on his first apartment! No _wonder_ the kid was panicking.

“It’ll have to be a bank transfer.” Shouta rubbed his temples and went to look for his phone.

“No, it’s okay.” Izuku insisted. “You can have it, I don’t mind and it’s _really_ awkward to have it when I actually _know_ him. I have the other ones from that run. You can have them too. Just… um, no more tape?”

Shouta turned just in time to see the poster levitate off the wall and the tape strips (still fresh and relatively malleable) gently pull away from the edges of the print. None of the ink came away and the tape didn’t leave any residue behind. That was some delicate and precise quirk use and the teacher in Shouta was glad to see it. 

Izuku breathed a sigh of relief as the poster rolled itself up and settled in his waiting hands. He handed it over with a somewhat calmer smile. Shouta took it because he _did_ want it. He wanted the whole set and resolved to transfer some money into the kid’s bank account when he wasn’t looking anyway. 

“I’ll send you a link to where I get my stuff framed.” Izuku promised as he went to leave. “They’re really careful and won’t mess it up.”

“Hey.” Shouta winced as the word escaped. Well, hell. He was already in the doghouse; might as well hang for a sheep as a lamb. “I get why you wouldn’t want to show off Mic’s merchandise living in the same house with him, but I saw you’ve got other stuff. The All Might merch.” Mic and Hitoshi either hadn’t noticed or hadn’t called him out on it, but Shouta still wanted to know. “Why haven’t you put that up? It’s your room. You can decorate it however you want.” 

Izuku’s froze and his ears turned red as he dropped his gaze. “Oh, um.” He started to twiddle his thumbs. “It’s different now that I know _him_ and um, I noticed it makes him uncomfortable. I didn’t have friends over a lot before everything happened, but they got weirded out by my stuff too or made fun of me. I can’t really do anything about my phone case right now or my pencil box... or my shirts…” He trailed off looking miserable and Shouta was reminded uncomfortably of his own opinion of some of Izuku’s wardrobe. The kid must have noticed. _Crap._ “...it’s creepy, right?”

Shouta sighed. That was at least one question he had an easy answer for. “Fuck them.”

 _“Sensei.”_ Izuku frowned at him, going from upset to exasperated in record time. Weirdly, Shouta realized he could not remember if he’d ever heard the kid use his name before. Hizashi had a cute nickname, but Shouta had never told either of the boys what they could call _him._ If they had to talk to him, he was either ‘sir’ or ‘sensei’.

That was fine at school. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that at home. He didn’t want a nickname, but he didn’t like being ‘sir’ to his ...to the kids. He still didn’t want to share _any_ form of address with Izuku’s gene donor. It was also an unpleasant echo of his own childhood and he did not want to recreate that in the present.

“No. Fuck them and fuck Yagi’s comfort level. He’d probably say the same thing. Other people’s feelings aren’t your responsibility especially when it comes to your private property.” Shouta went over to make sure Izuku had to look him in the eye. “It’s your room. Decorate it however you want. Use whatever phone case you want. Wear whatever _you_ want. Never let anyone make you feel bad for the things that make you happy.”

Izuku snuffled and wiped at his eyes. Shouta was getting used to the waterworks so he opted to just pat the kid on the head. It seemed to settle him and Shouta kind of liked having an excuse to mess with the boy’s soft hair. It wasn’t _quite_ like having a cat, which was something they’d put off after their first pet had passed away until they knew they weren’t going to end up with a baby or a kid who was allergic or something. 

It was just as nice though.

“You don’t have to hide it either.” Izuku said unexpectedly. He made no move to get out from under Shouta’s hand and nodded at the poster under Shouta’s arm. “Behind the door, I mean. No one is going to think it’s weird that you want to have pictures of him.”

“It’s not their business even if they did.” Shouta managed a smile for the kid. “Right?”

Izuku just snorted. “Right.”

Mic’s voice filtered into the study through the cracked door. “Guys, are you ready to go?”

So much for finishing his grading. Still, it had been worth it just for the conversation. 

Shouta nudged Izuku towards the stairs. “Come on. We’ve got a busy day ahead of us.”

* * *

Shopping was not something Izuku was used to as a group activity. Even when his mom was around, his parents had tended to give him money and let him run his own errands. He’d liked the responsibility as a kid, but was coming to realize he’d been missing out on something.

“Shinsou, no.” Izuku told a grinning Shinsou as he showed off a white tshirt with a big english slogan on it in black, which was _technically_ like the non-merch clothes he liked except for one _major_ difference. 

“Shinsou, _yes.”_ He insisted. “We can match. Mic will love it.”

“Mic knows enough english to understand what it says.” Aizawa took the shirt, which read THINK LESS STUPID MORE and hung it back up on the rack. He was dressed down in jeans and a black v-neck with one capture scarf draped over his shoulders. Izuku was _almost_ used to seeing him dressed like a normal person, but the fact that he’d shaved was weird all on its own. “If you want him to make fun of you for the rest of your life, I guess that’s a choice.”

“I heard my name?” Mic popped up from another aisle of clothing racks. He had several garments tossed over one shoulder and Shinsou eyed him with apprehension. “You ready to try anything on, Hitoshi? I picked a few tops out for you.”

“That looks like way more than a few things.” Shinsou looked towards Aizawa for help, but their teacher was looking at his watch.

“Did you actually need anything here?” He asked Izuku. “We still need to pick up some other stuff.”

“No, I’m good.” Izuku replied. He had been allowed to order some stuff online from the places he liked to shop at after breakfast and his wardrobe didn’t need to be rebuilt from the ground up like Shinsou’s did.

“All right, I’ll text you if they don’t have the electronics you picked out.” Aizawa informed Shinsou who went pale. 

“Hey! Wait! Don’t leave me behind!” He tried to go after them, but got caught after a few paces by Mic.

“Don’t worry, we’ll have plenty of fun.” He said, slinging an arm around Shinsou’s shoulder and stopping just shy of putting him in a headlock. “I’ll make sure to get plenty of pictures to show them later.”

“Nooooooo…” was the last thing Izuku heard from Shinsou as they left the store.

“Is he actually upset or just making a scene for fun?” Aizawa asked quietly once they were out of earshot.

“Slight unnerved?” Izuku guessed. “Not scared, but feeling out of his depth.”

Aizawa nodded. “Appropriate and it explains the acting out. Maybe he’ll shop faster without distractions.”

“He might, but Mic won’t.” Izuku countered and got another nod of agreement. Mic had been happy as a clam and not feeling the slightest bit rushed. 

“If it takes too long we can text him and ask what kind of coffee he wants.” Aizawa led him in the direction of one of the fancy mall computer stores Izuku had never set foot in before as a shopper. “That’ll make him finish up quick. He always wants to see the menu board for specials.”

Izuku knew heroes made good money, but he hadn’t known that Aizawa and Mic made enough money to buy two high end computers and multiple gaming consoles without using a credit card. That didn’t even take into account what Mic was prepared to lay out for clothes for Shinsou. Izuku had gone a little woozy when they’d given him his budget that morning and Mic had apologized it was so little because they needed to get the computers and stuff. Clearly their idea of a clothing budget was _very_ different from Izuku’s more middle class concept of reasonable spending. His dad hadn’t ever skimped on anything Izuku needed, but he’d always had strict limits on his allowance otherwise.

He didn’t really care about the materialistic aspects of being a Pro Hero, but it was nice to think that if he made it then someday he’d be able to take care of someone the way Mic and Aizawa were taking care of him. 

It didn’t take long to finish in the electronics store. They’d picked out everything they were going to get there ahead of time. Like the clothing, Mic had given them each a budget for entertainment and Shinsou had made a passionate case for gaming consoles. They each got one, but a different kind with multiple controllers so they had a wider selection of games to choose from. Then Mic added in some handheld models because there was a co-op game he wanted them to play with him. 

Izuku already felt like he was a little kid after Christmas morning so when he slowed down to look at the window display of a novelty stationery store he didn’t have any plans to go inside.

Aizawa, on the other hand, had a different idea and scruffed him by the back of the shirt on his way inside. He dropped Izuku almost immediately and took the bag he was carrying. “Go. Get what you want.” His mouth quirked in a small smile when Izuku hesitated. “I owe you for the posters. This can be a start.”

Izuku skimmed the top of Aizawa’s feelings and found nothing but affection and a little bit of amusement. This wasn’t about a debt. It was just Aizawa --wanting to be _nice._

“O-ok.” He fled into the store rather than think about what that meant.

The store had a merch corner and despite his earlier misgivings, Izuku was drawn to it. There was All M brand stuff, but whoever stocked the store had a thing for debut heroes and Mt Lady in particular. Her stuff was all very pinup style which made Izuku uncomfortable no matter who or what was posing so he was ready to give the merch table a pass when he noticed they had a small run of numbered Miruko prints. She wasn’t an up and comer. She was in the top ten and looking to climb higher, but Izuku had a secret weakness for bunnies and her merch wasn’t sexualized like a lot of the other stuff. 

He got one of the prints and a bigger All Might poster of him on a skyscraper done in a really neat vintage travel poster style. There wasn’t a lot of wall space in his room. It was taken up by the closet, the big window, and the built-in shelves. He was ready to call it good when he passed by a display of notebooks. 

How long had it been since he’d worked in one of his analysis books? His last one had been volume thirteen and it still had space in it, but picking it up always reminded him of _that_ day and he’d never gotten around to replacing it. 

He’d already been hovering on the outer limits of depression around that time. It had happened right after his grandparents passed away and his mom had gotten her job at the Rim station; right before his dad started acting weird. Having to formally give up his dreams of attending UA too had been… well, it hadn’t been good.

He didn’t really like thinking about how low he’d sunk that day or how much further he might have gone if Yagi-san hadn’t changed his mind about Izuku.

Things were getting better though and maybe… maybe it was time to pick his old hobbies back up.

Aizawa didn’t bat an eyelash when Izuku came up to the counter with a basket of composition notebooks, pens, pencils, and fancy markers. The cashier just smiled and asked, “Do you need any sketchbooks too? The thin paper in the notebooks tends to let markers bleed through.”

“Oh, I… um…” Izuku turned red. He didn’t consider himself an artist. His drawing ability was rough at best. The markers had been more of an aspirational purchase. 

“Give us a couple bound like the notebooks so he can see if he likes it.” Aizawa said as he pulled out his wallet. “Are the pens all right?”

“Yes, the gel pens don’t bleed like the markers. They should be fine in the notebooks.” She thought about it. “We do have colored pencils? Those might work.”

“Those too.” 

Somehow things had gotten out of control and Izuku ended up leaving the store with a lot more stuff than he’d picked out, plus a cranky looking purple cat plushie he and Aizawa agreed that Shinsou needed to have.

It was late enough by the time they were done that Aizawa had to make good on his threat to manipulate his husband into hurrying up at the clothes store. Izuku hung back and tried to sort his feelings, which was a thankless task at the best of times. He felt good, was the thing; happy and cared for and indulged. It was all weird and made him miss his grandparents all over again. 

He wasn’t paying attention and that was the problem.

Someone approached him from behind and, fast as a viper, grabbed him by the back of the neck. Something about them and their sick glee when he reached out with the Force to find out who’d grabbed him rooted Izuku in place. His bags fell from his suddenly nerveless fingers.

“Don’t move, Apprentice. I only have four fingers on you right now.” The person warned him and Izuku realized he _knew_ who had him. It was the man Kurogiri had been talking to in the basement. Shigaraki. He was the one who wanted to kill Yagi-san. He was the one who _had_ hurt Aizawa --the man with a contact disintegration quirk. “If I put the last one down then this will be over real quick and if I have to kill one person then I’m not going to stop with just you.”

His feelings said he _wanted_ Izuku to move. He wanted an excuse for mayhem and death, but would settle for compliance.

Aizawa had kept walking, but he noticed then that Izuku wasn’t following and stopped to look back. His expression confirmed what Izuku already knew.

They were in a lot of trouble.

“Too late, Eraserhead.” Shigaraki chuckled and yanked Izuku backwards. Darkness consumed the edges of his vision. He wasn’t blacking out. It was worse. 

Kurogiri had arrived. 

Aizawa’s eyes lit up red and Izuku wrenched himself forward, hoping that Erasure worked on multiple targets. It was too late. The man’s grip was too strong and Izuku hadn’t had his wits together enough to use his Force abilities. His feet landed on a wooden floor and the warp gate blinked shut leaving him stranded on the other side.

Shigaraki kicked him from behind and Izuku fell against a … a bar? He looked around and realized that was exactly where he was; a small basement level bar. The basement he’d been kept in before was probably attached to it somehow. Kurogiri stood behind the counter, polishing a glass with disinterest. There were no customers or decor other than a small television set among the liquor bottles on display behind him. 

‘I need to get out of here before they call Dad.’ Izuku wet his lips and pushed himself upright. Shigaraki was between him and the only visible exit. 

“Look at those gears turn. Your old man couldn’t stand silence, but you? You’re just planning. I like that.” Shigaraki reached into his back pocket and came up with a pair of leather gloves. To Izuku’s surprise he put them on. They were quirk restraints, he realized; four of the gloves’ fingers had been cut off so that only Shigaraki’s thumb was covered. “There, see? All safe now. So we can talk.”

“What do you mean ‘couldn’t’?” Izuku swallowed hard. He hadn’t been able to sense his dad in the Force for a while. He’d assumed that they were too far apart or the bond between them had been damaged. His dad couldn’t be dead. He’d have _known…_ wouldn’t he?

“Is he dead?” Shigaraki made a pointed gesture towards the barstools and, lacking a better plan, Izuku decided to play along until he either saw an opportunity or thought of a way to manufacture one. “No idea. I didn’t kill him after he fucked up my raid so probably not. No, he got _real_ pissed that we left you behind so he took off.” Shigraki took a seat next to Izuku and accepted a glass of something from Kurogiri. He’d pushed back his ratty hoodie to reveal his unmasked face; he had messy pale hair, chapped skin, and lips so thin they barely covered his teeth. Every part of him looked dried out, like he was living mummy with psoriasis. Was it personal neglect? Or a side effect of his quirk? “Your old man’s a freak, you know that right?”

Ouch. That was harsh criticism coming from someone like Shigaraki.

“No arguments there.” Izuku agreed softly and struggled with the sense of relief that washed over him, knowing that his dad wasn’t dead. Why did he even care? “You’re not giving me back to him?”

“Nah.” Shigraki continued then he paused and corrected himself. “Well, maybe in pieces if you do something stupid.”

Right.

He’d known, kind of, that there was no way this would end peacefully. 

Izuku lashed out with the Force, sending Shigaraki flying. He bolted for the stairwell leading up and out of the bar, but darkness enclosed his vision almost immediately. It was Kurogiri again. He dropped Izuku back in the cement basement, but this time followed him inside.

“That was unwise, Apprentice.” 

Izuku started to and then, remembering how Uraraka had robbed herself of her victory in the Sports Festival, stopped himself from telling Kurogiri he wasn’t the only one who’d just made a dumb mistake.

He’d spent a lot of time in hindsight thinking how he could have gotten himself free of this basement that first time around, if only he’d been ready to use his Force abilities for his own sake.

Force Suggestion was his least favorite skill, but every Force Adept had to learn it just to keep from using it by accident and Izuku was no exception. Kurogiri’s mind was a lot like Noumu’s when Izuku seized control of it. He had more personality than Noumu, who’d been just shy of brain dead, but he also had that same… malleableness? 

_‘This person is not human.’_ Izuku realized. Kurogiri’s mind was alien. He had no memories past a few years and even those were of the inside of glass tubes and fractured images of a man in a white lab coat with a thick mustache. That deep level of suggestibility must have been how Shigaraki controlled him. He wasn’t even trying to struggle in Izuku’s mental grip. 

“Take us to the nearest Hero Agency and turn yourself in.” Izuku commanded and Kurogiri obeyed.

The nearest Hero Agency turned out to be Edgeshot’s. Kurogiri had taken them all the way out from Downtown Musutafu to Kamino ward? Izuku had never heard of a teleporter with that kind of range before. 

Kurogiri dropped them right inside the lobby and strode forward to greet the receptionist, who looked like she was just a few seconds away from fainting. Izuku saw one of her hands vanish under the desk as she triggered a silent alarm. 

“I have come to surrender myself to the authorities.” He said as heroes poured out of the doors behind the woman’s desk. She vanished from sight as her chair was pulled into the floor, which sealed after her. 

...he’s always wondered what happened to the receptionists at Hero Agencies in the event of an assault. Somehow ‘emergency trap door’ hadn’t been what he’d pictured. 

Big shutters slammed down over the big glass double doors of the lobby and the lights turned red. Kurogiri did not resist as Kamui Woods, who was there for some reason, bound him up in his Lacquered Chain Prison. He’d apparently been briefed on the Mist Villain or got lucky because he caught Kurogiri by his metal collar, which contained his small physical body.

For a second Izuku thought it was over. There were heroes. They had Kurogiri secured. He was _safe._

Then one of them looked at him and asked out loud, “Who’s the kid?”

Before Izuku could say anything, Kamui Woods spared him a glance and sighed. “I know him.” He handed off Kurogiri to a sidekick that Izuku didn’t recognize, who put him into heavy duty quirk restraints. “He’s a harmless fight chaser. He probably came in at the same time as the Mist villain. Toss him out once the lockdown ends. If you give him attention he’ll just keep showing up.”

“W-wait!” Izuku’s blood ran cold as the sidekicks nearest him rolled their eyes and dismissed him. “No, I came here to get help!”

Edgeshot chose that moment to put in an appearance. He burst in from what looked like a secured stairwell, just wearing the armor bits of his costume, and without his hair done or any of his normal somber gravitas. He must have been off shift when the alarm sounded.

“What’s the situation?” He barked. 

“All secure, boss!” Someone called out. “The villain is in custody. He turned himself in.”

Edgeshot blew out his breath. “Well thank goodness for that. Don’t take any chances with him. They usually change their mind. Put him in the shielded security room until the police can get here. They’re going to want to talk to him. He was part of a kid...” At that moment he spotted Izuku. “... napping. _Holy_ crap.”

“Pay him no mind, sir.” The sidekick who’d reported about Kurogiri said. “Kamui identified him. Just a curious civilian.”

“Just a…?” Edgeshot closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t push those APBs to your phones for my own amusement. Come here, kid.” He beckoned to Izuku. “Stick by me. Your dads are losing their damn minds. How’d you get loose?”

“I…” Something welled up in Izuku’s throat and it wasn’t emotion. Foul-smelling black liquid surged out of his mouth. Izuku tried to scream, but the sound echoed strangely and was lost as the fluid kept coming. It wrapped around him and he lost touch of the ground underneath his feet. He still had one arm free and reached out for help. Edgeshot tried to catch him but the black liquid swirled up, covered him, and then vanished leaving him heaving for breath on his hands and knees back on the barroom floor in front of a familiar pair of red chucks.

There was someone behind him in a medical chair, but Izuku’s vision was swimming too hard to really make heads or tails of anything.

“For the record.” Shigaraki said, right before he stabbed a loaded syringe into the meat of Izuku’s shoulder and hit the plunger. “ _That_ was something stupid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey, the plot showed up.


	11. Part Eleven

Hibiki Asuka’s day had not started out amazingly well, but things were finally looking to pick up.

“You’ve both received your briefings.” Dragon was talking as he slipped on his reinforced gloves only hesitating a little on his bad side. He didn’t often bother with the costume. They weren’t that kind of organization, but sometimes the boss had to put in a public appearance and if you had the option of wearing a mask while busting faces then Asuka was all for it. 

Granted, it wasn’t really necessary anymore. Dragon’s personal identity was known to the police thanks to those League of Villains bumblefucks, but the costume was easier to clean than his suits so whatever. 

“Hibiki, may I reiterate that  _ hang back _ means you do not enter the building unless Yasu or I call for you.”

“Roger, Boss. Hang on a sec...” An email popped up in Dragon’s business email. She’d been expecting it. Her web crawlers displayed it on the interior of her goggles. “...the ransom note just arrived. They want the moon, basically, plus your eternal servitude. We have two hours to respond.”

Yasu graced them with a rare, horrifying smile that showed off all ten million of his needle teeth and turned in the driver’s seat of the little sprinter van they’d acquired for the day’s outing. “How fortunate we’re just outside their building.”

“Isn’t it just?” Asuka agreed. The plates of her exoskeleton chirred as she shimmied in delight. One of her coils slipped off her bench and she dug her legs into the upholstery to pull herself back up. She’d been  _ aching _ to take a (literal) piece out of Shigaraki for months and there was a solid chance that the Boss would let her off the leash for this operation if that walking scab pissed him off bad enough.

Usually he was all  _ ‘No, Hibiki, you don’t know where that’s been.’ _ Funny how people suddenly had fewer reservations about cannibalism when someone messed with  _ their  _ children. 

“If the news is to be believed, my son has neutralized their teleporter.” Dragon continued unperturbed by ‘Sensei’s’ demands. He’d been  _ plenty _ perturbed earlier when a breaking news segment captured part of Izuku’s kidnapping from a very public mall, but unlike the police  _ they _ knew exactly who was involved, where they were hiding, and they didn’t have to wait for permission to go to war. 

For a second it had looked like they might not have to, but then Asuka had received a video call from Shigaraki. It had been a twenty second clip of Izuku tied to a chair, head drooping, mouth covered in duct tape, with a sign on his chest that read, ‘WAIT FOR INSTRUCTIONS.’

They didn’t wait,  _ obviously. _ Shigraki had been a dangerous and unpredictable ally. It wasn’t like he’d suddenly become more trustworthy as an enemy. Fortunately for them, he’d decimated his forces in the USJ assault and Asuka’s people had made sure that  _ everyone _ left in the local hiring pool knew it had been deliberate. 

Villains didn’t often care about long term stuff like life expectancy if the payoff was good enough, but nobody wanted to be some other guy’s nameless canon fodder and that seemed to be how the League operated as a matter of course. As a result, they’d been down to three people as of that morning; Shigraki, Kurogiri, and Sensei. 

Thanks to Izu, they were down to  _ two. _

“If they retrieved Izuku from Edgeshot without it making the news then ‘Sensei’ has a new party trick. I will take point and immobilize everyone inside. Yasu, follow on my signal. Your priority is Izuku. He’ll be contained somehow. The League members will be occupied, but call Hibiki if you feel you need cover.”

“Yes, sir.” Yasu pulled a black cotton medical mask over his distinctive mouth and retrieved his skullcap out of the glove compartment to cover his thin hair. He had a costume, but wasn’t wearing it. Instead they’d stuffed him into a disguise since he’d be the most visible part of their operation behind the wheel. The guy was built like All Might’s shorter, uglier cousin and drew attention so he had a couch cushion stuffed into his shirt to give him the illusion of a paunch. Having a big belly instantly made the rest of his muscles look like fat to the casual observer.

“All right, comm check.” Asuka went quiet to listen to her ear bud.

“Check.” Yasu said.

“Good.” Asuka confirmed.

“Check.” Dragon said.

“You’re good too.” She pulled herself into a little ball so Dragon could get past her to exit the van. “Be careful, Boss.”

Dragon nodded. “I will take the greatest pains.” He promised.

“Shigaraki can have the pain.” Yasu quipped and Asuka snickered. “Good luck, sir.”

They waited quietly as their leader disappeared into the shadowy stairwell that led down into the League’s dusty lair. After a minute or so Dragon’s voice reached them on the comm. “Yasu, move out.”

Asuka waited quietly in the van. No one came out to hassle her, which was a minor disappointment. There was a reason she’d been left to guard the vehicle and it wasn’t because she was the weakest member of Dragon’s Inner circle (she wasn’t) but the street outside was empty. That turned out to be a good thing because it wasn’t long before Yasu tapped his comm.

“Hibiki, I need you.” He did not sound good. 

She pulled herself together and forced her body into a vaguely bipedal state. Asuka’s shapeshifting didn’t hold up to close inspection and it hurt if she tried to hold it for too long, but her basal state was a figure of some interest in the disappearance of several local assholes so she needed to be discreet whenever a camera might be around. 

“Status?” She asked as she let herself out of the van.

“I’m fine. The kid isn’t.” Asuka heard the faintest intake of breath on the line, but it wasn’t her and Yasu was still talking. “I need to know if it's safe to move him.”

“Inbound.” She dropped down to her proper legs and picked up speed as soon as she was in the stairwell. The door hung on its hinges where Dragon had let himself into the bar. Shigaraki was facing a corner and doing an excellent imitation of a mannequin where Dragon had left him frozen. Every living being in the building would be in similar condition; locked in place by Dragon’s freaky mojo and barely able to breathe.

“We’re behind the employees only door.” Yasu murmured on the comms. 

Asuka found them in a gutted kitchen. It clearly wasn’t much in use except for an orderly little corner with a microwave and hotplate. Everything else was darkened and dusty including the spot where they’d left Dragon’s son.

_ “Izu.” _ She hissed. He was tied to a chair in the middle of the kitchen and slumped forward. He was breathing, she could tell, but unresponsive otherwise. 

They were not  _ technically _ friends. Izuku didn’t know her from Adam much less as Hibiki Asuka, but he might recognize his occasional internet nemesis 1000echos. She’d started the account years ago just to keep tabs on him for his dad when kiddo discovered that no one knows you’re quirkless on the internet.

Dragon wasn’t the most tech savvy guy, but knew enough to be cautious of internet predators. So one of her first jobs for him was instigating forum slap fights with his son so 1. He had someone reasonably trustworthy to engage with and 2. She could keep an eye out for concerning behavior. She hadn’t had to baby him too much, aside from indirectly teaching him how to form and defend an argument against your basic internet troll. 

Deliberately provoking the kid had started out as an excuse to monitor him, but eventually the slap fights became their own reward and she kept with it even after getting her own crew a few years later when she could have farmed the chore out to a minion. Izu was a fighty little guy online and she genuinely liked him. He was probably about as close as she’d ever get to having a little brother or a son. 

Seeing him like  _ this _ made her want blood. She always wanted blood, of course, but this called for a whole new level of carnage. Still, she had to put that aside and trust Dragon to execute an appropriate level of vengeance. Yasu didn’t know how to care for fragile people and while Asuka wasn’t much better, she at least knew how to fake it for a little while.

“His heart rate is okay. Breathing is a little shallow.” Asuka’s senses were keener than a baseline human’s. She didn’t need to touch him to tell, which was good because people rarely liked being touched by a human-sized segmented bug thing. “Do you know what they gave him?”

Yasu pointed to a little side table which held a little amber colored injection bottle and, worryingly, multiple used needles. She took a closer look and hissed louder. “Secobarbital.” 

_ “Barbiturates.”  _ Dragon spat. 

“Assuming they didn’t reuse the needles, he’s had at least two injections. If he’s like you, Boss, then it was probably what they needed to keep him down and he’ll burn it off fast. We can move him, but the street version of this is real easy to OD on. He needs to see Doc as soon as we can manage.” Asuka did not add that secobarbital was what doctors used most frequently in physician assisted suicide. “Careful.” She added as Yasu ripped the restraints off their target. “He’ll be nauseous and confused. He might get sick.”

“Understood.” Yasu lifted the boy out of the chair as carefully as he could, but the kid didn’t fight. He was barely conscious. At least he wasn’t having any of the nastier side effects. With any luck he’d be able to sleep the whole thing off. Poor baby.

“Take him to the van and secure him.” Dragon ordered them. “I will join you shortly.”

“We don’t have a lot of time.” She warned him and got an affirmative noise in response before Dragon muted his button.

Ugh, she  _ hated _ it when he dropped out of contact. The last time that happened he’d joined up with fucking ‘Sensei’ out of nowhere for a joint project that disrupted their operations for weeks and nearly cost him an entire  _ arm _ . He was in shambles for weeks afterwards and nearly put himself into a coma at one point trying to find Izu before she and Yasu both put their feet down and made him step back for a while. 

Honestly, she was madder about the arm. Crime was flexible. Physical therapy was not.

He’d been less predictable since starting his little personal project and, sure, fine,  _ whatever _ , it was gonna take a while until he was a Real Boy™. She was just so ready to be  _ done _ with all the awkward growth opportunities he’d have to get through first ...like learning some fucking  _ impulse control. _

True, she knew she was not one to talk. Quasi-Feral Preteen Asuka™ had been way worse than Responsible Adult Asuka™ though. She’d basically had to make a dedicated personal project of humanizing herself and it took F O R E V E R. 

Somehow, though, it was so much more onerous, watching someone else go through it from the outside. Granted,  _ she’d _ kind of given up teaching herself to be a normal person about halfway through and had settled for identifying as a vaguely relatable sociopath. In her defense, it was hard to cultivate empathy when your quirk required you to eat people. 

Dragon was a completionist though. He’d want it all or nothing.

At least  _ she _ hadn’t had to try and juggle her career, self directed therapy,  _ and _ parenthood.

Asuka had been the one to advocate for leaving Izu with the heroes for a little while. She wasn’t the only one on the team who thought Dragon and his son might benefit from taking a little break, but he listened to her more than the others. Letting the heroes carry the burden of Izuku’s security while their crew finished off the League had been her secondary objective, but she’d kind of expected them to do a better job of it.

It was fine. They’d get the kid back, set him up with a cover identity, and get him into online school or something. First step, though, was the retrieval then they could get to the fun stuff; like  _ reprisal. _

Dragon was standing next to Shigaraki as they passed through the main bar on their way out and Asuka caught the tail end of what he was whispering into the deranged man’s ear.

“...wasn’t personal before now, Tomura-san.” He said softly and Asuka instantly forgave him for all the headaches he gave her. It was hard to stay mad at someone who could manage that kind of quiet menace. He leaned in.  _ “Now  _ it’s personal.”

They’d been prepared for Izuku to be in bad shape when they picked out their getaway vehicle. Most of the seats had been removed and there were straps to hold him down. They didn’t really need the backboard, but used it anyway. It’d make it easier to get him on a gurney later when they got to Base. Asuka coiled around him, which was probably going to give the kid nightmares, but someone needed to be close by in case he  _ did _ get sick so he didn’t end up choking.

She patted his sweat-damp hair while they waited. The hands on her primary limbs, like the rest of her, operated on a sort of hydraulic principal so they weren’t very nimble and she didn’t have much sensation, but mammals drew comfort from physical contact so maybe it helped some. Then again, she  _ was _ still a giant nightmare insect centaur thing so probably not.

There was a rumble underground and Dragon emerged from the stairwell a minute or so afterwards. He leapt in through the open door, shut it, and motioned to Yasu to move.

“Any changes?” He crouched down next to Izuku’s pale body.

“No, still stable.” She didn’t much like the crease between his eyes. It looked like pain, but Dragon was one of those weirdos who didn’t really understand why everyone else made such a big deal about it. That meant something else was bothering him. “What did you just do?”

“I beheaded a serpent.” Dragon replied and reached out to brush the hair out of his son’s face. “Sensei is dead. We’ll see how Shigaraki operates without his emotional support monster.” He paused and added, “...or his hands.” 

Oh, that was  _ nasty. _

Asuka had always suspected Dragon had more native feelings than he thought he did; certainly more than he  _ said _ he did, otherwise how did he know how to hurt his enemies right where they’d feel it most?

She loved her job most days, but sometimes she  _ really _ loved it.

“We skipping the rest of the op?” She guessed and he nodded.

_ “Things _ can be replaced or retrieved later.” Dragon sat down cross-legged and continued to fuss ineffectually with Izuku’s hair. She wondered if he’d ever done it before. He didn’t look like he’d had a lot of practice. “Proceed to the pit stop.”

The pit stop was a smallish drive-through car wash able to accommodate two cars at a time. Asuka signalled their second pick up vehicle and it entered the wash right after they did. It was something they did often to obfuscate their trail and their team operated like clockwork at that point. Asuka threw open the back door of the van and the crew from the other car lifted Izuku out on his backboard. No one stopped for small talk. Everyone piled into the second vehicle while Asuka blitzed the interior with one of her homemade pepper bombs. That would contaminate any trace evidence they’d left behind. Then she activated the sprinter van’s AI pilot. 

If anyone had been following them the van would lead them in lazy circles around town until it ran low on gas and returned to the rental agency they’d stolen it from.

The carwash had hideyhole built into the wall so they weren’t the second or even third car to emerge after the van. It wasn’t a perfect solution and relied on anyone trying to trace them only checking to see which cars left the blindspot and not the order they entered in. They’d switch vehicles again in a rarely used tunnel near the base, but for the moment they were safe.

* * *

Izuku woke up from uncomfortable dreams in his childhood bedroom. 

For a second he just lay there wondering if he’d woken up from one very long, very weird dream. Then the headache caught up with him and woke him up enough to realize he  _ wasn’t _ in his old bedroom. He was just in a room decorated very much like it. The walls were plastered in All Might merch, but very little of it was stuff he’d have picked out.

“Careful, kid.” Someone said. It was a man sitting by his bedside. He was a big guy in a black tshirt and olive drab BDUs with no obvious quirk until he opened his wide downturned mouth and Izuku got a load of his teeth; rows upon rows of needles like an angler fish. He’d been reading something on a tablet, which he set aside. “Don’t upset your IV. Those League guys pumped you full of anesthetic. You’re gonna feel gross for a while.”

‘Those League guys?’ Meaning he  _ wasn’t  _ in the League hideout anymore?

“Where…” Izuku made a face when his attempt to talk ran aground on his dry, dry mouth. 

The big guy took a lidded cup with a straw from the nightstand and held it up so Izuku could drink. Odds were he wasn’t with heroes. The bedroom was a big hint although not one he would have predicted. Izuku didn’t recognize the man, but he recognized his shoes. Those scuffed black boots were a regular feature at the apartment before the League started showing up.

They probably weren’t going to bother drugging the water if they were trying to detox him from whatever had been in Shigaraki’s syringes. Izuku let the man hold the glass while he drank. He was so thirsty that he drained it before he even realized. The man refilled it and that time Izuku was able to drink a little slower. His head felt clearer too.

“What is this place?” Izuku was uncomfortably sure he knew the answer.

“You’re in your dad’s base of operations. I’m Yasu, your old man’s field commander.” He leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees. He seemed awful calm for a villain, but Izuku’s personal experience was all people like Shigaraki and the slime villain. There were probably more types than you saw on TV. Izuku carefully reached out to probe the man’s mind as they spoke. He hadn’t known his dad was successful enough to have anything like a field commander. “How much do you remember about what happened?”

“I remember being taken from the mall and then Edgeshot’s agency. Shigraki injected me with a needle and it’s really fuzzy after that.” Izuku thought about it. “Was I in a chair?”

A thread of distaste skittered across the otherwise placid surface of Yasu’s mind chased by something very like concern. “Yeah.” He grunted. “It wasn’t important though so don’t dwell on it. They sent Dragon a ransom letter.”

Izuku couldn’t help his grimace. He could imagine how that had gone over. “Are they dead?” 

Yasu’s mouth quirked in an almost-smile. His mind lit up with dark pride. “Some of ‘em.” He said. “You ever meet ‘Sensei’?”

Izuku shrugged. “I only talked to Kurogiri and Shigaraki…” He frowned. Had Sensei been the man in the medical chair? “...I don’t think I met anyone by that name.”

“Now you never will.” Yasu settled back into his chair with a pleased expression, like they weren’t discussing casual murder, and Izuku suddenly had a much easier time picturing him as a villain.

Carefully, so carefully, Izuku reached out with the Force. Yasu wasn’t Kurogiri, but he wasn’t a born leader either. His will was pliable and Izuku needed information. 

_ “What does my father have planned for me?” _ Izuku asked.

Yasu’s gaze went a little distant. “I don’t know what his deal is.” He replied. “Hibiki talked him into leaving you with the heroes until he got his shit in order. Then the League got involved. I don’t know what’ll happen now.”

Izuku wondered who ‘Hibiki’ was; someone who had sway over his father, for sure. That meant they were dangerous at minimum.

_ “What did you mean about my dad ‘getting his shit in order’?” _

“He hasn’t been right since your grandpa died.” Yasu elaborated, looking unhappy. Izuku felt concern from him again, commingled with frustration. “I thought he was mourning, but it’s weirder than that. Suddenly he decided he needed  _ emotions; _ that  _ you _ needed him to have emotions. Seemed to me like he already had enough to get by on. I don’t know. Grief does weird shit to people.”

Izuku swallowed and forced himself to stay calm. He  _ did _ remember right after Jiisan passed away. He’d been struggling with his own loss, his troubles at school, the looming realization that he was always going to be held back from his calling, and trying so hard not to resent his dad who seemed untouched by every setback. It hadn’t always worked. 

That had been right before his dad had started to change, before his mom had to leave, before he’d started to get scared of his own house. 

_ Had _ Hisashi been so untouched? Maybe not.

“How is he…” Izuku’s voice failed him. He was still dried out from the drugs and his control slipped, but Yasu didn’t seem to notice.

“...getting them? Kid, I have  _ no _ fucking clue. Meditation? He mediates a lot and, uh, talks to empty rooms.” He sighed, still a little relaxed from Izuku’s Force Persuasion. “Whatever he’s doing though, it’s  _ kinda _ working? The problem is he got all the negative shit first though. His temper kept getting away from him and his impulse control was  _ actual _ shit. Hibiki finally got it through his thick skull that it wasn’t the time to be around his kid. The original plan was to keep him at base as much as possible until he got himself sorted out, but then the fucking League got in contact and the next thing we knew, he was working with  _ them.”  _

Izuku remembered his dad’s sudden long absences before the USJ. Was that what Yasu was talking about? He’d been assuming that his dad was out building his villainy career, but… was that not the case?

Yasu massaged his temples and Izuku got the impression he’d been wanting to complain about this for a while. He seemed more like a long suffering coworker than one of his dad’s evil henchgoons. Force Persuasion had cracked the floodgates just enough for them to swing open the rest of the way on their own. He kept talking.

“Fucking  _ Sensei _ was the worst of them. Some guys don’t need a quirk to get inside your head. It was pretty clear they both thought they were using each other right up until the USJ assault went bad.” Yasu paused. “Just so you know, kid, your old man…”

“Yasu, I believe that is enough.”

Izuku startled as his father let himself into the room.

He looked… okay. 

It was dumb, but something unclenched in Izuku’s stomach. 

Hisashi was dressed in black slacks and a vest similar to what he’d been wearing when he’d projected himself into Izuku’s bedroom. This time he wore a dark red dress shirt and had a long coat draped over his shoulders connected at the lapels by a thin, elegant chain. 

“Uh, sure boss.” Yasu frowned. “What was I…?” He shook his head as if to clear it. “I forgot what I was saying.”

“I’m sure it will come back to you.” Hisashi pointed towards the door. “Go take a break. Hibiki will relieve you once I’m done here.”

He waited until Yasu was gone to take the man’s abandoned seat. “Elegantly done.” He said and Izuku realized he could feel his dad’s…  _ pride? _ The emotion felt very deliberate. Like his father had intentionally formed it and presented it to him in the Force. Izuku didn’t know how to respond. He couldn’t remember ever being able to easily read his dad in the Force the way he could with other people. He’d assumed his dad knew how to shield his casual surface feelings. Now he wasn’t so sure. “He won’t remember what he told you and doesn’t seem to be suffering more than mild confusion. You’ve been keeping up with your training.”

Izuku’s gaze dropped to his dad’s arm where he would have…

It was still there. He’d gotten treatment in time. Izuku struggled to understand what he was feeling, knowing that. Some of his internal conflict must have leaked out where his dad could pick up on it.

Hisashi lifted his hand and wiggled the fingers. “All is well.” He said. “I have some restrictions still, but our doctor expects me to make a full recovery.”

“How were you able to sneak up on me?” Izuku blurted out. “I haven’t been able to sense you for  _ weeks.” _

Something Izuku couldn’t identify darted through his dad’s expression. “It was not my doing.” He said. “Our Force bond as master and student broke down. I felt it happening and couldn’t stop it. I haven’t been able to diagnose the reason. It’s less important now. You’re home.”

“Home?” Izuku gritted his teeth. “You still…?”

“You’re still angry with me.” Hisashi seemed… sad? It still didn’t feel like other people’s emotions and made all the hairs on the back of Izuku’s neck rise as one. “I understand now, somewhat better than before. An apology may not be what you want from me, but I  _ am _ sorry. My actions disrupted our home and exposed you to the League. You had the right to expect better from your master.”

Izuku gaped, whether it was because he’d never heard his father apologize to anyone or because the things he was sorry for were so bonkers crazy that he couldn’t begin to form a response.

“You…” Izuku dragged in a breath. Anger bubbled up inside him unbidden and he could suddenly understand how Force users could be swept away by it. “...  _ that’s _ what you’re sorry for? Not trying to make me into  _ a murderer?” _

Not for making him afraid to live in his own house? Not for making people think he was being beaten at home? Not for  _ driving away his mom? _

“Perhaps.” Hisashi frowned slightly. “I still believe you would benefit from cultivating more self-interest ...self-care?” He tried the different phrase on for size and then shrugged it off. “I acknowledge that our acceptable methodologies may differ in that regard.”

There came a scratching from the door and Hisashi turned in his chair. “Enter.”

The… person who came in was only just barely recognizable as human. She did not have any obvious sexual characteristics, but Izuku assumed she identified as female going by her dramatic eye makeup, carefully styled black wig with pink streaks, long elaborate manicure, and pale yellow off-shoulder crop top. From the waist down, she had the segmented body of an iridescent blue centipede. Her body was slightly more human-shaped up top, but she had chitinous plates instead of skin. Her color lightened up to a pale tan starting at around her ribcage. She’d reared up a bit to manipulate the door, but dropped down to a much lower height in order to walk. 

“Hey, Boss. Two of our lookouts came in with a report for you.” She held out an expensive, paper-thin tablet. “...and we have a  _ visitor. _ It’s Birdface. _ ” _ She was very unhappy about that last part.

Hisashi closed his eyes and scowled a minute later. That ball of emotions was less artificial. He was annoyed and uncomfortable with lingering wisps of real fear that… had to do with Izuku, somehow? “Stay with my son.” He directed the bug lady. “Izuku, remain in the room. If anyone comes then let Hibiki deal with it.” He paused and seemed to struggle for a minute. “If anything happens and you encounter a man wearing a bird mask then do not hesitate. Kill him and run. I know this conflicts with your ethics, but do it anyway. Overhaul is a monster even by my standards.”

Izuku forced himself to nod. 

His dad lingered for a bit before the bug lady said, “Boss…”

“We will talk more later, son.” Hisashi said and left in a cloud of dire intent. 

The bug lady made a game attempt at trying to take over the abandoned chair, but it was so incompatible with her physiology that Izuku couldn’t bear to watch. He pulled his legs up so she could get onto the end of the bed. 

Her reaction was unexpected; a sharp burst of unadulterated affection punctuated by the way she flowed up onto the bed, curled around him, and petted his hair. “You are too sweet for words.” She cooed.

It was weird. She wasn’t threatening him. If Izuku didn’t know better, he’d have said she was familiar somehow. That was dumb of course, she was a villain and he would remember meeting  _ her _ before.

“You’re Hibiki?” He guessed.

“You can call me Asuka, honey.” She replied and combed his hair back. “I bet you’ve got questions. You should ask them while he’s gone. You don’t need to use your quirk on me. I’ll tell you whatever you want.”

“Why?” Izuku could not stop poking at her brain. She  _ liked _ him and he had no idea what to do with that. Not like a girl liked a boy, but like they were old friends. 

Asuka hmmmed at him. “Would you believe that I feel guilty?”

“You don’t though.” Izuku countered and she laughed.

“Nah, not really, but a little sort of.” She admitted and flicked her long hair over one shoulder. “I heard Yasu running his mouth. Your dad’s a grown ass man, but we were kinda hoping to keep you protected. Do you know what alexithymia is?”

“Not really, no.”

She nodded like she’d expected that answer. “It’s kinda like dyscalculia, but with feelings. He knows it’s a problem now and he’s dealing with it is all you need to know for the moment. It’s been really weird, but we’re on the downhill portion.”

Izuku knew his dad...struggled with some things. He’d never been emotive and tended to respond better to logic than emotion, but Izuku was also positive that Asuka was oversimplifying her explanation. What they were describing wasn’t fixable just through some meditation or even through Force healing. It wasn’t something Hisashi could have done by himself and Izuku sure hadn’t helped him. 

“That doesn’t make what he’s done okay.” He gritted out and was surprised when she nodded her agreement. 

Asuka laughed when he goggled at her. “Honey, I’m a  _ villain.” _ She explained sadly. “We know better than anyone else that just being sorry enough doesn’t make a difference. What you’re feeling is legitimate, but people like your dad aren’t gonna understand that they’re fucking up unless you tell them.”

Easy for her to say. 

“Why are you doing this?” He struggled with the hot bubble of anger that had risen from his stomach into his throat. “What do you want from me?”

“Ultimately?” Asuka examined her nails. “I want you and your dad to make up. Dunno if I’m gonna get that when no one in the crew is even really ready to leave you two unsupervised yet. Fucking Shigaraki really threw a wrench in my five year plan.”

“What?” Izuku squeaked. “What are you talking about?”

She ruffled his hair. “It’s complicated grown up stuff. Our plan was to let you finish high school with the heroes. Manaan was an okay school; sort of boring and full of elitist douchebags, but academically decent.  _ Nothing _ like UA though. Your dad was pissed, but come  _ on. _ How can you beat that? Although everyone was bummed when you didn’t show up in the Sports Festival. I was recording it just in case. I wanted to see you hand that Bakugo kid his  _ entire _ ass.”

The blood in Izuku’s veins turned to ice. “You  _ knew _ I was at UA?”

All that security, all the secrecy, and constant paranoia had been… for what?  _ Nothing? _

“Oh honey, I  _ always _ know where you are.” Asuka chuckled. “How do you think we showed up at the League hideout so quickly?”

How? Iuku wracked his brain. They’d been so careful. They’d…

He blinked as the obvious answer occurred to him. 

His  _ phone. _

Only one of his electronics had followed him from his dad’s house. They’d changed the sim card when Yagi-san got him a new number, but the phone itself was the same. The police had looked it over while he was in custody, but no one had actually told him whether or not it was safe to use. They’d given it back to him so he’d just assumed it was.

“You were tracking my phone.” He felt suddenly adrift. His dad could have taken him away at any time. “Wait, no. That doesn’t make sense. If you were watching me then why did you leave me there. If dad knew where I was then he would have come.”

“Oh, I didn’t say  _ Dragon _ knew where you were.” She corrected him. “I said  _ I _ knew where you were. You’re right. If he’d known where to find you then he’d have gone to get you no matter what it cost. Just keeping him at base while Doc reconnected his arm was hard enough. He was ready to break you out of jail by himself.”

That was not the answer Izuku had been expecting. “Why would you hide me from him?”

Asuka grimaced. It was more of a fluctuation of feelings than an actual expression. He was close enough to realize her face was made up of small chitinous plates and limited her range of facial expressions. “Do you remember that black eye and fat lip you got towards the end of your third year of middle school?” She asked.

“Not really.” Middle school was a borderless tapestry of minor hurts for him. Picking one out of the whole was almost impossible. He couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t bruised or nursing a burn. Most of that had been Kacchan or his other bullies though. He hadn’t gotten really good at healing until the summer between middle and highschool when he had Yagi-san to practice on so he’d worn his injuries until they faded on their own or his dad had the energy to fix him up. Unlike Izuku’s grandparents, his dad wasn’t a stellar healer. 

He’d been thinking about that a lot since Kacchan confronted him and had come to a conclusion about the injuries he picked up training with his dad. It wasn’t as simple as Kacchan or Mic made it out to be. Hero training and Force training turned out to have a lot in common. He came out of sparring sessions with Aizawa with similar bangs, bruises, and one time a sprain. 

The difference between Aizawa and his dad was what came after. If he got hurt during training then Aizawa or Mic helped patch him up. They made recovery plans and nagged him about his aftercare. If it was bad enough then they went to Chiyo-sensei. They’d never left him to deal with it on his own. 

What his dad did wasn’t okay. Izuku wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to forgive him for it, but it wasn’t….  _ that _ either.

“Well, I do.” She flicked her gaze away from him. “Yasu, Dragon, and I used to split watching you when you were a baby. The crew was just getting established then so we shared a lot of responsibilities. It’s okay if you don’t remember. You were really little then.”

Since his mom worked full time, Hisashi had been Izuku’s primary caregiver before he was old enough for daycare, but… he’d thought that his dad was a  _ new _ villain. Dragon had only debuted a few years ago. Asuka made it sound like they’d been working together for way longer than that. So had Yasu.

“What I’m saying is you’re kind of like our kid too and neither of us liked the answer I got when I asked your dad how you got hurt.” She frowned. “That’s when Yasu and I realized we needed to start paying more attention. Your grandpa was really good at filling in where your dad wasn’t great at being a parent, but I don’t think he’d considered there’d ever be a time when he wouldn’t be there. Once he got sick things started coming apart. When he died it got even worse.”

Izuku’s grandmother hadn’t survived long past her husband. He’d known, sort of, that the main reason his mom -who had lost her own parents at a very young age- had stayed married to his dad was because she loved her in-laws and hadn’t wanted to lose them. Once they were gone her reasons to stay dwindled down to nothing. 

“So I guess that’s why I do feel a little guilty.” Asuka continued. “I knew he needed help. I knew you two needed to be separated while he got it. I knew he needed to be monitored so he wouldn’t do anything he’d regret later, but the League got to your dad on my watch. What happened at the USJ was on me.” She paused and amended herself. “To you. The rest of it was totally the League’s fault. That was  _ some _ terrorist bullshit.”

Izuku’s head was swimming, but asked one more probing question. “Yasu said my dad killed some guy named ‘Sensei.’” 

Asuka nodded. “Kid, I realize this is a lot for someone your age but that guy  _ needed _ killing. Word on the street is he got mostly killed once before, by All Might  _ himself  _ no less, but just came back from it crazier than ever. He used to be a big deal and still had a hand in some very nasty businesses; human trafficking, biological engineering, extortion, all that quirk terrorist crap.”

Izuku tried to imagine someone so terrible that  _ Yagi-san _ would agree they needed to die and then go through with it. He shuddered.

“I’m sorry.” He told Asuka.

She blinked, confused. “For what? It’s nothing you did.”

“Not that.” Izuku explained. “For this.” He reached out in the Force and put her to sleep. 

Asuka dropped like a stone and Izuku  _ just  _ managed to catch her before she hit the mattress. He laid her down carefully so none of her legs were twisted underneath her and slipped out of the bed.

Yeah, she was a villain and pretty unrepentant about it… still. She’d been kind to him. He couldn’t stay. Mic had told him that a hero’s first responsibility was to come home safe and Izuku hadn’t realized just how applicable that was going to be to his future, but he didn’t have to be a jerk about it.

There were bandages in the nightstand and thanks to his visit to the hospital he knew how to shut off the saline bag before he pulled the needle out of his arm. Force users naturally healed a little faster than regular people and the puncture closed over almost as soon as Izuku found his shoes. 

His phone was nowhere in evidence. Shigaraki had probably taken it while Izuku was passed out the first time. It was for the best. Asuka wouldn’t stay asleep long and it was clear her ultimate loyalty lay with his dad. 

No phone made looking for help harder though. 

Izuku started towards the door and stopped cold when he realized it was open.

A Force ghost stood in the hallway, but it wasn’t his grandmother. She was tall and narrow with blade-like cheekbones, curly white hair that reached her shoulders, and a very familiar set of hooded robes in varying shades of gray. She beckoned to him and pointed down the corridor outside ‘his’ room.

She vanished as soon as he got close.

The corridor was empty when he poked his head out. It was less finished than the room he’d woken up in; more like a warehouse that had been partially converted into an office. 

No, it was  _ exactly  _ like a converted warehouse. 

He cautiously took off in the direction the ghost had pointed him in. She didn’t feel dangerous and wouldn’t have appeared to him for no reason. 

They were apparently on an upper level because the corridor turned out onto a mezzanine open on one side that looked down into a vehicle bay. Izuku kept low and crept over to the railing. There was a big meeting going on below. 

One side seemed to be his dad’s people, who were arranged in a semi circle around the crate Hisashi was using as an impromptu throne. He still dressed in his vest and slacks, but had the mask from his other costume on with it. The men and women surrounding him were all focused on their visitors with a sort of coiled readiness that implied they were ready to throw down at a moment’s notice. There were others scattered through the bay, just out of sight. None of them were wearing masks or costumes; just regular, everyday clothes.

The other guys were surrounding a guy who Izuku assumed was ‘Birdface’ or Overhaul, rather. The ‘Birdface’ name made more sense. He had a long beaklike mask on like a plague doctor, which was echoed by his companions’ costumes. They all seemed very dedicated to their aesthetic.

“...however interesting your proposal may be,” Dragon’s tone implied the answer to that was ‘not even slightly,’ “I’ll have to decline. You see, I’m aware of what happened to your last distributor  _ and _ the one before that. For someone who is so repulsed by their own quirk, you seem comfortable using it quite often.” He steepled his fingers. “You’re more of a hazard to your allies than your enemies, Overhaul. We will not be working together.”

“You assume that I was asking.” Birdface… Overhaul gestured to one of them men at his side; the one in the cowl. Whatever he intended to happen didn’t. His backup fighters were frozen; held tight by the Force. 

“I don’t really care if you’re asking or telling.” Dragon replied, bored. “You have one opportunity to walk out of here. Whether you take it or not is up to you.”

Overhaul’s eyes creased at the edges above his mask and he started to peel off one of his gloves. His hand twisted suddenly in the wrong direction and Izuku could almost  _ feel _ the sickening crack of bone. 

By chance Overhaul’s glaze flicked up, passed over Izuku, then came right back to him. His lips peeled up off his teeth in something that was almost, but not quite a smile. “I suppose we’ll be leaving in that case.” He said, cradling his broken wrist and smoothly returning his gaze to Dragon. “I’ll be seeing you again very soon.”

Izuku backed away from the railing. That had been bad. He looked around and saw the same ghost from before pointing into the small office that the semi-open air corridor dead ended into. The door was open and inside Izuku saw the corner of a desk. On top of the desk, just within sight, was his dad’s lightsaber.

Downstairs everyone’s attention was still on Overhaul and his mooks as they left, which gave Izuku the cover he needed to slip into the office and out of sight.

The ghost had vanished again by the time he got there so he took a minute to look around and see if there were any other priceless family artifacts laying around.

It wasn’t a comfortable office. It looked like the cover of a modernist interior design magazine; all glass, polished wood, and leather. The furniture was beautiful and ruthlessly tidy, which just confirmed it belonged to his dad. Hisashi tended to furnish things by finding a picture and recreating it.

Most of the desk drawers were locked. The locks were simple enough that he could disengage them using the Force. He didn’t find much else of interest until the last drawer; the shallow middle one most people used to house pens and spare change. Inside he found a photograph of himself and his dad.

Izuku was maybe a year old at the most in the picture and deeply asleep in a mint colored rabbit onesie complete with ears. Hisashi had him in a  _ bjorn, _ of all things, and was giving the photographer an unamused look over the top of a pair of aviator sunglasses while cupping the curve of Izuku’s tiny head in his free hand shielding the ear not pressed against his chest; probably keeping him from being woken up. 

Two grinning people were reflected in the mirrored shades; Hibiki with the camera and Yasu holding up the middle finger. Going by the surroundings, it looked like the picture had been taken in the vehicle bay below.

Maybe he could have denied what Hibiki and Yasu said. They were villains and he didn’t understand their motivations or how comfortable they were with lying, but this… this was proof. Dragon had been around a  _ long _ time before he debuted.

His dad had been a villain  _ the whole time. _

Had Izuku ever really known him?

He slipped the picture into his pocket and did not examine his reasons for doing so very closely. 

Outside the vehicle bay had emptied. The big doors were still open and through them he saw his path to freedom. Izuku could sort of trace the presence of his dad’s minions all round him, but couldn’t really differentiate between them. None of them were close except for one… that was heading up the stairs towards Izuku’s ‘room’ where Hibiki was still disabled.

There weren’t a lot of options to get down stairs without jumping. The height was just slightly too much for Izuku to do it quietly and without hurting himself on the cement floor. Izuku’s eyes found a large chain clipped to the wall above him that was affixed to a sort of winch-looking thing above the vehicle bay. It had probably been intended for lifting engines out of cars or something, but all Izuku saw was a fast way down.

He was almost half a  _ second _ too late. 

Hisashi shouted from the direction of the bedroom and came charging around the corner just as Izuku caught hold of the chain and used the Force to unmoor it from the hook it had been affixed to. It was huge and heavy and smashed through the cheap railing like dry kindling as Izuku swung out into the open bay shrieking like a startled rabbit.

So much for quiet.

The chain swung heavy in one direction then back the way they came. Hisashi reached out to try and use the Force to bring Izuku into reach, but Izuku broke his focus by yanking his legs out from under him. Izuku slid bumpily down the chain in the moment of freedom that bought him and staggered off as it lost momentum and came to a stop in the middle of the bay.

“Izuku!” His dad yelled from above. He felt the Force attempt to close around him like Overhaul’s goons, but he shrugged it off. To his surprise, it obeyed.

Contests between Force Adepts came down to either skill or strength. Izuku didn’t have the skill yet, but he realized perhaps too late that he might well have the strength. 

Izuku caught a glimpse of his dad’s startled face as he escaped out into the afternoon sun --and into a yard full of plainclothes villains.

“Woah, there!” A guy with a face like an axolotl and webbed fingers got between him and a big chain link gate that led out to a stretch of pitted and neglected road. “Fuckin’ Yasu owes me 2000 yen.” He muttered under his breath and continued, louder. “Nobody’s gonna hurt you kid, but it’s safer inside. Yeah?”

Izuku ducked right as sometime tried to tackle him from behind and was just in time to see his dad release the chain holding his coat over his shoulders with a flick of one thumb, step onto the ruined railing, and then drop lightly to the ground level: floating for one second in a swirl of dust right before he touched the ground. 

It was _ annoyingly _ cool. 

Someone shouted, “Make a hole!” and the villains cleared Hisashi’s path to Izuku. 

Except for axlotl guy. He tried to tackle Izuku from behind too. Izuku ducked and threw him at Hisashi, adding speed to his flight through the Force.

Izuku expected Hisashi to bat the guy to one side, but Hisashi halted axolotl guy in mid air and sat him gently down among the other assembled guys. “Keep clear. I’ll handle this. Continue the evacuation.”

Evacuation?

Izuku frowned and remembered Overhaul’s radiant menace. Maybe evacuating wasn’t such a bad idea. He’d all but promised that he’d be back with more friends.

“Son.” Hisashi spread his gloved hands and approached slowly. “I know that there are things we need to work out. It’s not safe to be outside by yourself right now. Come inside please.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Izuku kept his senses open, tracking the movements of Hisashi’s people. They seemed to be dispersing albeit reluctantly.

“You’re still angry.” Hisashi observed, still moving closer.

_ “YES, I’m still angry!” _ Izuku moved back, maintaining their distance. “In what world would I  _ not _ be?”

“The League’s leader is dead.” Hisashi tried to start circling around him and Izuku Force pushed him backwards. His dad was strong enough that he only slid back a foot or so, but Izuku was pleased to see sweat beading along his temples and upper lip. “Shigaraki has been neutralized. You’re no longer in police custody. We can resume your training. What else is there?”

He was really and truly confused, Izuku realized. Whatever he’d done to learn empathy wasn’t enough or couldn’t replace a lifetime of learning to understand other people’s perspectives.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” Izuku asked, incredulous. 

Hisashi took advantage of Izuku’s brief inattention to close the gap. He got a hand around the back of Izuku’s neck; a tactical advantage that Izuku instantly regretted letting him have. Physical contact and gestures weren’t really necessary for most Force techniques, but it was very helpful for psychic connections --like the one his dad opened between them.

“Then  _ show _ me.” Hisashi pressed down on the shell of Izuku’s mind rather more gently than he ever had before. It was still an intrusion. 

Izuku fought it out of pure instinct, but an echo of Asuka’s voice rang in his ears.

_ ‘...people like your dad aren’t gonna understand that they’re fucking up unless you tell them.’ _

Hisashi jerked back and Izuku realized he’d overheard that. Their eyes met and Izuku, in a moment of icy clarity, realized that his dad really never  _ would _ understand until he had a point of reference --so Izuku stopped fighting and let his barriers fall away. 

He let Hisashi have it  _ all; _ his confusion, his fear, his pain, and his loss. 

He gave Hisashi the cutting grief of losing his mother, not to illness or death, but to terror. He gave up the sickening lurch of being ordered to kill Kacchan, who might not have been his friend anymore but still represented precious old memories and the hope of future reconciliation. He showed Hisashi the unbearable anxiety he’d felt while his home stopped being a safe haven as unfamiliar shoes and strange, sinister voices filled the front hall. He gave Hisashi the burn of humiliation and Kacchan’s gravelled voice asking, “How long was that asshole hitting you?”

Then other things started slipping in; the eagerly anticipated sound of his Mom’s ringtone, Yagi-san’s solid presence next to him on the train, Principal Nezu encouraging him to go after his dream, Mic’s comforting arm around his shoulder in the custody hearing, Aizawa’s quiet voice saying  _ ‘fuck them’ _ , and Shinsou’s shoulder between him and a furious (and apparently worried out of his mind) Kacchan.

Those final memories were what finally made Hisashi falter and his control of the connection slipped. It stopped being one way and started to flow in both directions. 

The memory that came through wasn’t something that his dad meant to share. Rather, it was a persistent image that had stuck with him recently. Izuku didn’t recognize his own face right away. He was pale, sweat-soaked, and unconscious on the floor of a car or something. Another memory pressed on the edges of that one, almost doubling over it; a downward view of a red, wrinkly baby still wet from birth as it was laid down against a man’s bare chest by someone with nitrile gloves while other people in scrubs moved in the distance.

It was  _ him, _ Izuku realized. He could kind of make out his mom in the background of the memory although she was fuzzy and not the really nucleus of that recollection. She was eclipsed by the delivery room staff. That meant the chest and the intense focus on the baby in the memory belonged to… his dad. 

He kind of remembered someone telling him he’d been an early baby after a difficult pregnancy even with the assistance of a Master Force Healer, which is why his parents had never tried for more kids. Even when Izuku was little he’d been skeptical about that. The unhappy tension between his mom and dad was present for as long as he could remember, but it looked like that part of the story really was true. 

Izuku had never experienced memories without the additional data of feelings or sensory associations. His dad’s earlier memory was like watching a video, but the more recent one was frayed at the edges with distress, fruitless anger, and confusion about why he was still feeling those first two things after the threat had been dealt with.

Hisashi yanked himself free from the connection, staggering backwards and covering his face with one hand as he heaved for breath. Izuku wasn’t much better. His breath came in short, ragged huffs and his head was swimming again.

Neither of them were able to move right away, but Izuku managed to pull himself together first. If there was one thing he had experience with it was being overwhelmed by his own feelings. He turned and stumbled blindly towards the gate.

“Izuku, no!” 

Izuku’s head cleared suddenly as the Force came alive around him and coaxed him into turning his head just in time to hear his dad say, “Son, I’m sorry.” and throw out his hand.

Spidery lightning arced between them. Izuku caught the bolt on instinct and forced the crackling energy to pool in his open palm. Hisashi stood staring at him with his eyes wide and the hand shielding his face had dropped just enough for Izuku to make out the tear tracks lining his cheeks and open mouth.

He looked at his father and committed the moment to memory.

They might never see each other again after this.

Then he let the lightning go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You will notice the chapter count went up. It's because Part Twelve got so big I had to split it into two. We're in the homeward stretch, y'all!


	12. Part Twelve

Asuka jerked into sudden unwelcome awareness as Yasu shook her awake.

“Hibiki, get up.” He got an arm around her shoulders to position her with her legs underneath her. She realized she’d passed out on her back and had ended up turtled on her own shell. “The kid knocked you out. He’s in the wind.”

_ “MOTHERfuck.” _ Asuka snarled. “He got me!”

She’d known it was a possibility going in and had tried to punch his buttons so he wouldn’t do it, but the brat took after his dad. He didn’t lose his focus. He’d bided his time. He got his answers and then got out. “Brat, brat, brat!”

“That would be more frightening if you didn’t sound like such a proud mommy.” Yasu sighed and helped her up. “Birdface didn’t leave happy. Dragon gave the order to flush HQ and we're gonna relocate to Site B a little early. He’s gone after Izuku. Your people are disassembling the servers and torching anything we can’t take with us.”

“S’fine. We’re backed up to the cloud as of one hour ago.” Asuka shook her head to clear it and they both flinched as a loud BOOM shook the building. “What the hell was that?”

Yasu blanched. “It sounded like lightning.”

Someone shouted from down the stairwell. “Hibiki, Yasu! Come quick, Boss is down!” 

They didn’t need telling twice. Asuka got downstairs first. She found Dragon in the yard being helped up by Finlay and Dingo. He was awake, which was something. His suit was wrecked, burned down to his undershirt in one spot.

“Fuck, since when could Izu do the lightning thing? Boss only just figured out how to do the lightnin thing!” Yasu pointed at two nearby mooks. “Get Doc!”

“Boss?” Asuka couldn’t take her eyes off the two drying, but still very present damp streaks down either side of his face. She had  _ never, _ not once seen Dragon cry. He didn’t even seem aware that he’d been doing it. Anyone else would have wiped the evidence away by now. “Boss, what happened?”

“I… I tried to stun him.” Dragon rasped, sounding like he’d been scraped hollow inside. “He caught it and turned it on me.” He shook his head. “He’s gone.”

Izuku was in the wind and…  _ fuck _ . Overhaul was probably still in the neighborhood. They’d done a decent job of keeping Izuku’s existence a secret in the villain community right up until the League got involved. Shigaraki had been clumsy when he was looking around for Izuku’s location after Dragon ditched them. He’d hired Gein to track down ‘the Apprentice’ and Gein would sell his own mother for a quick buck, much less an incidental piece of information he received as part of a different job. Worse still, Gein was one of their direct competitors and he’d  _ relish _ the opportunity to annoy and distract their leadership. 

Word was out and she could not even imagine Overhaul not knowing about something like that when he was trying to strongarm Dragon into working under him. 

“I can still catch him.” Asuka promised. “I can fix this. My crew will evacuate without me.”

She took off before anyone could tell her no although Yasu made a decent attempt to yell it at her back. Her wig and top ended up in the dirt of the yard. She didn’t actually have any sex-related parts to hide, but people were more comfortable around her if she observed the usual signals of civilization. 

Izuku hadn’t gone far, but he was moving fast. Fortunately he was a nervous sweater and so left a powerful scent trail behind. 

Asuka’s shapeshifting went in two directions; more human and less human. Her basal state was smack in the middle. Shifting towards human made her smaller, more complex, and very nearly a mammal. Shifting away was the exact opposite. 

Her shadow loomed ahead of her, swelling up-up-up as her speed increased with the length and number of her legs.

The neighborhood, usually loud with the sound of car horns and people shouting, fell quiet within minutes of her exit from the compound. 

Asuka didn’t really notice. Her attention was on Izuku’s trail and besides, it always got quiet when she went out.

* * *

Izuku had never really cut loose with the Force before and even though he was running for his life part of him wondered why on earth he’d waited so long. He was stronger and faster, yes, but more than that his every motion had an extra snap and surety that he’d never been capable of before.

Power came to him more easily too. Even the Force Lightning his dad had cast at him had com eagerly under his command. In the end it was just electricity; about as strong as a taser. He’d known what to do with that. 

He’d learned his lesson at the hospital and constantly refreshed himself as he ran, never using more than a whisper of his private reserves. Even so, energy leaped for him when before he’d had to coax it. 

Izuku left the main road as soon as he could, instead choosing to run along the service alley behind the old, empty commercial buildings in the neighborhood. It was dirty beyond belief and lined with trash bins no one had been by to collect in months if not years. Still, he had some cover.

...or at least he did until the alley dead ended into a one story shed that had been built to connect two warehouses at the back. 

He wet his lips and, chasing a feeling, increased his speed. 

Izuku made it onto the roof of the shed in one jump; a combination of Force-enhanced speed and telekinesis. He let himself have one wheeze’s worth of shock and victory before jumping off the other side of the building. 

He had no idea where they were. Dragon had a wide territory that covered at least three districts in Musutafu, but going by the state of urban decay around him and all the fiddly little back alleys he was taking advantage of he was probably in Ryloth. 

What he wanted was a busy commercial area. Even Ryloth had public safety stations. The police might not be able to help him, but the stations had directions to the local hero agencies. 

Izuku could sort of sense a large gathering of people over to the northeast. It was too big and diffuse to be a single group. It felt like a shopping arcade or public square; exactly what he wanted.

He couldn’t find a direct path there, though. The alleys should have connected, but they were full of garbage piled higher than he could jump over or more probably-illegal building projects. 

Motion caught the corner of his eye and he saw the white haired Force ghost again. She wasn’t any closer this time, but something about her face was starting to tug at his memory. She stood underneath a fire escape and pointed up. 

Izuku saw what she meant right away. Unlike most of the buildings, the one she was pointing to had an escape that went all the way up to the roof. Maybe he couldn’t go around, but he could go  _ over. _

With the Force behind him, Izuku was able to reach the bottom ladder in one jump and haul himself onto the metal landing. He dared one look behind and didn’t see pursuit, but that didn’t mean much. The buildings were close enough that he couldn’t see far.

The roof was bare when he got up there; flat gravel, an AC unit, and --the Force Ghost lady.

She stood near the opposite ledge pointing down and once again disappeared once he got too close. Still, he saw what she’d been trying to show him; a ladder. It was metal and built almost flush against the wall of the exterior building. Someone had probably intended it as a back-up egress from the roof if the stairwell and large fire escape were rendered unusable. That sort of thing could happen in areas with frequent wide scale villain attacks. 

It led down into yet another narrow alley, but one that let out into a big, busy shopping district that was  _ full _ of evening traffic.

Izuku swung himself over the edge and slid down the ladder like a fireman. It didn’t end at the street level and Izuku had been prepared to jump those last few feet, but it turned out the bottom of the ladder extended when someone put their weight on it. The bottom of the ladder slid out under Izuku and he hit the pavement with a loud CLANG and a shout of surprise that was echoed by the alley’s other occupant, who Izuku hadn’t noticed before.

He was a thin guy with pale, translucent hair and jagged teeth in a cheap suit. “MOTHERfu…” He grabbed his chest. “You scared the shit out of me!” He accused Izuku.

“S-sorry!” Izuku looked towards the tantalizing proximity of people and access to law enforcement. “Sorry for startling you, but I need to…”

“Wait.” The guy frowned and whipped out his phone. He squinted at the screen and then Izuku’s face before a slow, awful smile spread across his lips. “Guess it’s my lucky day.”

Oh no. 

Izuku started backing up. “I’m not going back.”

The guy shrugged. “I don’t give a shit.” He replied frankly and reached into his coat to pull out a… a gun? “Tell your freak dad that Overhaul sends his regards.”

Izuku’s stolen lightsaber was in his hands before he could really think to reach for it; ripped out of his pocket, in his hand, and ignited just in time for him to bat the projectile Overhaul’s minion shot at him away. The air smelled like cooked meat just for a second. Izuku might not have even noticed except he’d been sensitive to that scent for weeks. 

“What the f…” Overhaul’s goon didn’t get any further than that before an enormous black bullet-train shaped  _ thing _ plowed through the mountain of garbage blocking the alley intersection behind them and into him. It had two mantis-like scythe arms that extended from underneath it’s shell and hauled the man back under.

Izuku screamed. 

The goon screamed too, but went abruptly silent and limp as a loud, wet crunch sounded through the alley.

Izuku turned on his heel and bolted. Little round drone cameras descended on the square and began to blat out a warning klaxon. 

ABNORMAL VILLAIN ATTACK IN PROGRESS. ALL CITIZENS ARE ORDERED TO SEEK SHELTER. SEEK SHELTER IMMEDIATELY.

The people in the square, all longtime residents of the area, evaporated as the storefronts rushed to slam their security shutters down. 

One of the drones stopped its broadcast, turned in a circle, focused on him, and made a beeline for his face. Then it started to talk, not in the flat robotic voice of an AI, but with the voice of an actual person.

“You stay in place, kid.” It said. Izuku didn’t recognize the voice. “Someone is coming to evacuate you. Take cover if you need, but try and stay out in the open. You aren’t in danger. The villain is retreating and the big guy needs to be able to see you when he lands.”

_...when he lands? _

Instinct and maybe a touch of foresight led him to look to the sky. He saw a small fleck in the sky to the west framed by the fading sunset. It grew bigger and bigger until he realized what it was.

_ “Yagi-san.” _ He choked out. 

All Might plowed into the square, leaving a huge rut in the pavement as he slid to a sideways stop right in front of him. 

Izuku had gotten so used to the Yagi-san who was always slightly bent over to fit through doors and be at eye level with whoever he was talking to that he forgot that All Might was big enough to scoop him up with one hand, which was exactly what the older hero did.

“Take a deep breath.” He instructed Izuku. “It’ll be harder to breathe once we’re in the air.”

Memories of the first time Izuku had flown with All Might had him sucking in deep breaths in an attempt to take in as much oxygen as he could before they took off. He was draped over All Might’s shoulder in a fireman’s carry; close enough to overhead the voice coming from his friend and savior’s earbud.

_ ‘...are in pursuit, but the municipal security drones and cameras are shorting out all over the district. We’ve lost visual contact. Victim is confirmed dead. All Might, do not engage. Proceed with evacuation. It was chasing Midoriya. Get the kid out of range as fast as you can. There’s still the teleporter to consider. Rendezvous at Site F.’ _

“Roger.” was All Might’s terse reply.

Then they were flying. 

* * *

Asuka had lost Izuku’s trail almost immediately. He was going too fast and Ryloth was practically a landfill once you got off the main streets. She’d been forced to sacrifice precious seconds to get her HUD out of the long, thin fanny pack underneath her lower body segments that served as pockets, purse, and sometimes hands when she needed to hold something.

Thank fuck that her support computers at Site B were already active. Her web crawler AIs pinged back within milliseconds; ready for orders.

“Initiate Where’s Waldo.” She spoke into the HUD’s mic. “Target: Small Might.”

Considering Ryloth’s non-existent budget for cyber security, Asuka had complete control of the municipality’s camera and drone network. She rarely exerted that control and thank god, this time she didn’t have to.

There were already a couple of aerial drones following Izuku from up high. They hadn’t tagged his face yet and she hurriedly introduced error codes into their facial recognition software. They were probably getting ready to cite him with illegal quirk use at the speed he was going. One her AIs piggybacked the drones so she could keep an eye on her runaway while leaving the cops in the dark.

She took off in the direction Izuku had run. He was fast, but had to take detours to get past the garbage blockades. Asuka could run on walls if she needed to and did. Slowly but surely she gained on him.

One of her AIs forwarded her an APB that had been sent to their suborned drones. It featured Izu’s face as an ‘endangered minor’ and carried the tag she hated most above anything else; HI. Hero Inbound.

There were drones around not on the networks she controlled and they’d found Izu. The heroes were looking for Izu harder than she’d realized. 

“I can still fix this.” She told herself, but then her AIs forwards her another clip. 

Izu had gone over a building to get to Binks Square; a big densely populated shopping district that even Asuka would hesitate to enter looking the way she did. Before he got there, though, he had run into some guy wearing the shitty uniform of a low level Yakuza grunt; a grunt who had a gun.

Overhaul’s _ fucking quirk killer bullets. _

Asuka’s vision turned red.

It was always hard to keep her inner beast in check when she was big. This time she didn’t even try. She  _ was _ the beast. The beast was her --and that walking piece of meat had pointed a gun at one of the three people in the world she could never think of as food.

She heard a gun fire.

She was almost on them. There was a giant pile of residential garbage blocking the footpath behind the apartment building Izuku had scaled, but Asuka wasn’t in a place where she could consider things like ‘going around’ it. She plowed through with the fury of a battering ram and was on the gunman before he could cock his pistol for another shot.

Things went fuzzy there for a second and Asuka surfaced to the sound of Dragon speaking intently into her earbud. 

_ “Hibiki, disengage.” _ He said.  _ “Can you hear me? It’s over. Disengage.” _

“Boss…?” She slurred with blood pouring from her not-quite human mouth and looked down at the half-eaten guy underneath her. Shit. She’d made a mess. Dragon was going to make the face; the ‘I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed’ face.

Izuku was nowhere in sight and all the blood belonged to her impromptu snack, which was good. She could almost fool herself into thinking maybe he hadn’t seen. 

_ “Good. You’re responding. Yasu and I are waiting to pick you up. Retreat now.” _

Asuka scraped together enough brain power to realize Dragon hadn’t been the only one trying to get her attention. The hero drones were transmitting her image too. Every active duty hero in the area was converging on her. All Might  _ himself _ had hands on Izuku and now the rest were coming to deal with her.

“Boss, take Yasu and go.” She said quietly. They were far enough away that he couldn’t use his freaky magic powers to catch her in the lie. “I’ll catch up later.”

The connection was silent for a moment and then Dragon came back online.  _ “Hibiki, we are parked down the street from Endeavour’s satellite agency. If you are not in this car within five minutes I will get out and surrender myself to the authorities.” _

Adrenaline did what the voice of a friend couldn’t and brought her brain all the way back online. “No!” She snapped. “You’re too pretty for jail!”

Ok, maybe ‘all the way back online’ was overstating it a little.

There was another pause.  _ “Then you should hurry.” _ He cut the line.

Asuka hissed long and loud and inhumanely. Fucking asshole was  _ holding himself hostage.  _ He’d do it too. Dragon was many things, but never a liar.

_ ‘I can do this.’ _ She told herself in her head.  _ ‘I’ve done it before. I can do it again.’ _

“Initiate Xanatos Shell Game.” Asuka rasped out. Her AIs pinged back their assent and proceeded to bluejack the hostile drone fleet using the Ryloth drone network as a staging ground. Then they whited out the hero comm network with static.  _ Hah. _ Let them just  _ try _ and catch her when they couldn’t coordinate with one another. 

Asuka’s gaze fell on the abandoned gun in her victim’s hand. It had a nearly full magazine of quirk killer bullets. She snatched it up, engaged the safety, shoved it in her fanny pack, and took off.

Her AIs had complete control of every drone and security camera in the area by that point and had created dozens of blind tunnels all radiating out in different directions for her to disappear into. They broadcast a map with her location picked out on it in white to her HUD visor so she could navigate her own digital labyrinth.

None of the heroes had physical eyes on her yet. They were still relying on surveillance footage to track her and now had no way of knowing which direction she’d taken off in. All the civilians were sheltering inside so there were no witnesses even if the cops found someone willing to talk to them.

Asuka picked a tunnel and ran in it for a while until she stopped leaving a blood trail and was a block or so away from Dragon’s location. Then she stopped, forced herself into the most human shape she could. She had emergency clothes in her fanny pack; an oversized hoodie dress and beanie that made her look like a skinny hipster and not a secret monster. 

She stepped out of her tunnel, walking at a relaxed speed, and made her way to the street. Her AIs would continue the charade for a while; creating false sightings, submitting anonymous tips to the police, and muddying the waters until there was no credible trail left for anyone to follow. 

They were outside the area of the Shelter in Place order so there were other people out on the roads; cars, pedestrians, and one lone rideshare vehicle that slid up to the curb in front of her with Yasu behind the wheel in his black medical mask.

Dragon opened the passenger door from within and, as soon as she was inside, pulled his long legs up onto the seat in a lotus position so Asuka could let herself collapse into the footwell and her most comfortable shape. 

A pair of hands interceded as she struggled to get out of the hoodie dress. It was Dragon. He helped her out of it and accepted something from Yasu up front, which he plopped onto her head.

It was a wig; her short and curly blonde one, not the long black one she’d thrown into the yard. 

Her two idiots had stopped in the middle of evacuating HQ to get her clean hair.

Her wigs weren’t just for vanity. Asuka always struggled with her true nature, but having hair on flipped a switch in her brain and let her go into a more comfortable headspace where she hardly ever looked at someone and thought  _ ‘I could eat’ _ \--unless, of course, they really,  _ really _ deserved it.

An old emotion welled up in her chest. She was good at ignoring it most of the time, but sometimes it came at her unexpectedly. It was kind of like comfort, longing, and terror in equal measures and she only ever felt it around the one person. She was pretty sure that feeling had a name, but the guy who inspired it in her was denser than a brick wall so she was never going to have to deal with it in any meaningful fashion and she was more than ok with that.

Her vision was still obscured by the wig so she didn’t see Dragon pause like he’d just heard something.

He brushed the bangs out of her face and handed over her tablet. Asuka clutched it to her chest like a teddy bear. She didn’t actually need it. She was still getting reports through her visor, but she liked holding it. So far it looked like they were going to get away clean.

“Boss, I’m sorry.” She whispered. “I couldn’t catch him.”

“It’s all right.” Dragon looked away, out the window as Yasu pulled away from the curb. “He’s... happy where he is.”

That stung, but not too badly. She’d known that already. She just hadn’t been ready to let it stop her.

“Sometimes...” Yasu said from the driver’s seat into the aching silence of the car. “...the best thing people like us can do is to get out of the way.”

“I suppose you are correct.” Dragon sighed and shook his head. “In which case I’m afraid I made a mistake leaving Shigaraki alive. I wanted him to suffer, but we never did find the doctor responsible for creating Noumu. It’s possible he’ll manage a comeback. All I did was cut off his hands. Even a regular surgeon could reconnect them if they work fast enough.”

Asuka leaned her cheek onto Dragon’s knee. That, at least, she had an answer for. “It’s okay, boss. We’ll just make sure to kill him next time.”

He looked down and cracked an awkward, unpracticed smile. “I do appreciate your practicality, Hibiki.” He looked back towards the window and nodded. “We’ll do exactly that.”

Yasu flipped on the radio and they left Ryloth for the last time accompanied by the irony of Ella Fitzgerald singing ‘Everytime We Say Goodbye.’

* * *

All Might touched down on a landing pad at the top of one of the big glass skyscrapers of Coruscant ward. The pad was directly off what appeared to be a spacious penthouse suite filled with familiar faces. Mic was there along with some of the detectives Izuku recognized from the USJ incident.

Mic was the first one out and scooped Izuku into a hug that lifted him clean off his feet. Aizawa and Hitoshi weren’t there. “You’re safe!” He wheezed. Then he put Izuku down and started checking him over. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m okay.” Izuku wet his lips. “The League shot me up with something. I think I metabolized it.”

Mic made a loud, distressed sound and herded Izuku into the room where Chiyo-sensei was seated on a long curved couch. “I heard that!” She pointed at the carpet in front of her and Izuku sat. “Let me see you? Do you remember what it was? How many doses? How long ago?”

“It was a sedative. I don’t… “ He thought about it. “...at least two shots. There might have been another. It wasn’t working on me. I passed out a little and woke up in another place on a saline drip. My dad came and got me.”

The adults all exchanged worried looks. 

“The League handed you over to Dragon?” Detective Tsukauchi took off his hat and knelt next to Izuku. “Everything I’ve heard says they had a falling out after the USJ assault.”

Izuku shook his head. “No, I think the League tried to ransom me.” He admitted. “There was this guy watching me while I slept off the shots. He said Dad… he said Dad killed one of the guys who took me.”

“Do you know who? And where?” 

“Not Shigaraki.” Izuku thought about it. “There were two people. It was in a basement level bar. The other person was in a medical support chair and they called him ‘Sensei.’ He was the person who teleported me out of Edgeshot’s agency.”

Tsukauchi nodded. “We suspected Shigraki had an accomplice or maybe a handler. He’s too unstable to be that effective as a villain by himself. Can you remember anything else about Sensei?”

“H-he was…” Izuku flashed back to Asuka talking about people who needed killing. “...one of the people working for my dad talked to me a bit. She said he used to be a big deal, but A-all Might killed him.”

The room went silent.

“She said he came back.” Izuku continued, trying not to feel the oppressive welter of emotions coming off Yagi-san and the Detective in battering waves. 

“All Might, I need to…” The detective got to his feet and pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“There’s a quiet room with good signal that way.” All Might pointed deeper into the penthouse. “Go.” He took Detective Tsukauchi’s place. 

There was an elevator in the main room of the suite and Izuku finally noticed it when it dinged to announce the arrival of two more people. 

Shinsou stomped out of the carriage a little bit ahead of Aizawa. They had identical pissed-off expressions that made them look even more related than usual and converged on Izuku. 

“I am putting you on a  _ leash.”  _ Shinsou informed Izuku, looming like a cranky tree. “I am going to have you  _ microchipped.” _

“I’m sorry, Shinsou.” Izuku didn’t quite know what to do. Nobody was angry, but they’d been scared all day and couldn’t seem to stop being scared even now that the danger was past. 

“Don’t be sorry!” He hissed and pulled on his hair so it puffed up higher than usual. “Be safe. Just… be safe.”

A heavy hand fell on Izuku’s shoulder and he looked up to meet Aizawa’s eyes. Powerful guilt beat underneath his skin like a heartbeat. “Thank you.” He said quietly. “For getting out.”

Iuku dropped his eyes and nodded. 

Chiyo-sensei made him give blood samples then. She had a large medical kit with her. Taking Izuku to a clinic seemed out of the question for the moment, but she did have to take the samples away.

“You seem fine for the moment, but I need to know what they did.” She explained as Detective Tsukauchi escorted her out. “I’ll call Eraser or Mic with the results since your phone doesn’t seem to have survived.”

That reminded him.

“Sensei! Mic!” Izuku turned to them with wide eyes. “One of dad’s people knows where the house is. They had a tracker in my phone!”

Aizawa turned a slow, menacing expression on Detective Tsukauchi who frowned.

“Did they say that exactly?” The detective asked. “Your devices were checked for tracking equipment and programs before being returned to you. We checked  _ you _ as well, speaking of microchips.”

“Well, no.” Izuku admitted. “She said she always knew where I was. I just assumed she meant my phone since it was the only thing that followed me from the old house. She said she hadn’t told my dad. That’s probably not the case anymore.”

“The people chasing you had the services of a very skilled hacker. They managed to make the creature chasing you vanish from our drone fleet. If it wasn’t for the body it left behind, I’d almost think it was an illusion.” Detective Tsukauchi thought out loud. “It’s possible they didn’t  _ need _ to track your phone.” 

“Of all the times for a Wendigo sighting.” Aizawa grumbled. “At least it took the gunman and not you.”

“Wendigo?” Izuku looked around for someone to explain.

“The thing that was chasing you.” Mic sat down next to him on the couch and put an arm around his shoulder, sounding very calm considering the topic of conversation was a giant cannibal bug person. “It’s a Musutafu cryptid and credited with several disappearances over the past twenty years or so. This is the first credible sighting anyone has ever had of it. The only evidence we’ve had before now was the testimony of some terrified homeless people convinced they’d seen a  _ shokujinki _ and the occasional body part.” He snorted mirthlessly. “This time we have footage and a body. Let’s see the mayor write that off!”

“That… wasn’t a cryptid?” Izuku kept looking around. “That was one of my dad’s lieutenants, Hibiki Asuka. She’s not a monster. She’s a person.”

Detective Tsukauchi found his voice first. Fortunately it wasn’t to fight him on whether or not it was possible for Wendigo to be a person. They’d all seen weirder quirks. “That doesn’t make sense. Why did she attack one of her own people?”

“The gunman?” Izuku forced down the memory of what a gun barrel looked like from the business end. “He… he wasn’t one of them. He worked for someone named Overhaul. He showed up for a meeting with my dad after I woke up and I saw part of it while I was escaping. He wanted dad to be his new ‘distributor.’ Dad said no. They almost got into a fight. Overhaul spotted me and I think he texted my description to his people. The gunman looked at his phone and told me to give my dad Overhaul’s regards.”

“That’s a new name.” Mic mused.

“I’ve heard of him. He’s a nasty piece of work.” Tsukauchi murmured. “It’s part of an ongoing investigation. I’ll pass it on to the lead on that case. He’ll probably want to interview you as well. For right now you, Mic, Eraserhead, and your brother will need to stay here for security reasons. If Overhaul has your scent then we need to be very careful.”

It got very quiet after that. 

The penthouse belonged to Yagi-san, but Izuku got the sense he didn’t spend a lot of time there. The furniture was nice and all, but looked like it had come with the place when he bought it. The interior design had a certain feel to it that was really not Yagi-san’s style; the total opposite of champagne taste on a beer budget. There was a bunk room in the back which Aizawa declared they were going to use, much to Izuku’s dismay because he remembered how badly both his guardians snored. 

Well, his nerves probably weren’t going to let him sleep anyway.

Shinsou clung to him like an ornery shadow, but had also brought their new handheld consoles so Izuku could turn his brain off for a little bit while they figured out how to play a cooperative racing game. 

The adults refused to go far. Yagi-san just plopped himself down on the opposite couch with a book about submarines and no apologies. Mic hovered for a bit, left, came back, hovered more, and repeated that pattern like he knew Izuku needed space but was having a hard time giving it to him. Aizawa would appear suddenly and vanish again, but Izuku could sense that he never really went far. It was just sometimes he needed eyes on both Izuku and Shinsou.

Detective Tsukauchi came back later with Izuku’s test results, some pictures to go through, a recorder to take his official statement, and a metric ton of takeout. 

Izuku was gladdest for that last part. He’d been hungry since before Shigaraki snatched him and hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast. 

...he hadn’t even been gone an entire  _ day, _ he realized. It felt like he’d been running for weeks. 

“There were traces of secobarbital in your system.” Mic’s hand clenched for a second on Izuku’s shoulder. “We found a potential location for the League’s hideout. There was a discarded bottle there and used needles, but no bodies except for some blood in the main room. That’s not a surprise. They would have had several hours to clear out.” Detective Tsukauchi explained once they’d all eaten and he’d made Izuku tell the whole story again in a somewhat more ordered fashion for the official statement. “For the moment we are proceeding under the assumption that ‘Sensei’ isn’t as dead as Dragon’s crew thinks he is.”

Yagi-san made a low, sad sound. All Might had a very low body count for someone who’d been a takedown specialist for over thirty years so each death on his hands was probably deeply personal. Izuku couldn’t make heads or tails of what he felt coming from his mentor, but that seemed very understandable. 

The good news was that try-outs had been postponed. Nedzu couldn’t make the case to put it off for Izuku’s case because apparently the board of trustees was really dedicated to their obnoxious gatekeeping, but it turned out that every member of the teaching staff had volunteered to participate in the search for Izuku. That meant they weren’t finished getting ready for the late start exam.

Detective Tsukauchi’s people found Dragon's old hideout Monday morning. It had been abandoned and the trail went cold until someone spotted a person matching Yasu’s -his code name was apparently ‘Maw’- description in a town four hours south of Musutafu. It was probably a red herring, but the Chief of Police went for it anyway. 

Izuku, Shinsou, Mic, and Aizawa were cleared to return home as a result. The house had a quiet, hushed feeling to it when they came back and no one questioned it when Mic left the security shutters down. Still, he was so glad to be back.

He stopped, just inside his room.

Waiting on his desk for him was the stuff he’d purchased at the stationary store sans Shinsou’s grumpy cat; all unwrapped and laid out neatly for him to come home to. There was a photograph, a copy of a group pic Mic had taken for Shinsou on his first night home with them, pinned defiantly to his corkboard right in the middle. Psychometry wasn’t one of Izuku’s strong points, but when he touched it he had a brief flicker of Shinsou’s determined face as he stuck the picture up like a dare to the universe.

Izuku felt for his back pocket and pulled out the picture he’d stolen from his dad’s office. It was a little creased from having been sat on, but straightened out easily enough.

Aizawa found him sitting on his floor a while later, staring at it.

He came into the room and sat down next to Izuku to look over his shoulder. Izuku tipped it to the side so Aizawa could see.

“What are you thinking?” He asked and Izuku could lie.

“I miss him all of a sudden.” He confessed. “It’s dumb. We talked a little bit while he had me and didn’t resolve anything, but… what the other people said. It cleared some stuff up about what he doing and why. I’m not scared anymore. I can’t go back.” He shook his head. That wasn’t quite right. “I  _ won’t _ go back, but at the same time…” He drew in a shuddering breath. “...I’m remembering who he was before all this and I…” He wrapped his arms around his bent legs and buried his face in his knees.

He missed his dad.

Understanding him hadn’t helped Izuku forgive his father. He might never be able to do that, but it cleared away the fear and anger that had been clouding his memory of what life had been like before his grandparents died and it hadn’t been at all bad back then.

Aizawa rested his hand on top of Izuku’s head. “Tell me why.”

“He…” It was hard to explain so he tried to break it down into pieces. “... he was always there when he said he’d be. If he said he was going to pick me up he was there on time. He didn’t get distracted or forget. Everyone else did at least once, but never him. He was also the only person who didn’t think I was less somehow because I don’t have a quirk. Even mom got really sad about it sometimes because she knew how hard it was going to make my life. I had teachers who tried to hold me back a grade because they thought it would bring me ‘in line academically with my peers’ even though my test scores were just fine.” In retrospect he was pretty sure his dad had used Force persuasion to make them knock that off, but the point was that he’d been willing to make waves to keep Izuku from being punished for his lack of a quirk. “He thought it was something to celebrate.”

That was the heart of it. His dad had  _ always _ believed in Izuku even when no one else did. He wasn’t the encouraging type, but his utter conviction meant a lot to Izuku when he was growing up. He acted like Izuku’s eventual success was a foregone conclusion and any struggles they experienced in the meantime were temporary obstacles at best. 

Aizawa was quiet for a while and then he started to speak. “When I was eleven my mother sold me to her dealer for drugs.” He said, pitching his voice low just for Izuku’s ears. “They went along with it and later handed me off to somebody else who surrendered me to the police. Before that, when she was sober, she’d been a great parent; loving, patient, kind, and wise. She also had a debilitating quirk dysfunction in her eyes. She was legally blind and in constant pain. We couldn’t afford the therapy she needed or prescription drugs once my father took off so she had to look for other options. Street quirk suppressants are very addictive. Looking back, I don’t know if she ever stood a chance. Her addiction eventually grew to consume everything else she was or would ever be.” Aizawa laid a hand against Izuku’s back. “It’s okay to miss the person you loved and still mourn the fact that you can’t be with him anymore --not even if he comes back to you.”

“Did she?” Izuku asked. “Did she come back?”

Aizawa shook his head. “No.” He sounded… not quite sad, but a little empty. “I had the opportunity to talk to that dealer when I was older. It turns out he deliberately gave her enough to overdose on. He felt like he’d done me a favor; that he’d saved me from whatever she’d have done later if she got me back… totally ignoring the part he’d played in cultivating her drug addiction to begin with, of course.” He added that last part in a more normal and acerbic tone of voice.

“Asuka-san killed that man because he tried to shoot me.” Izuku confessed. “I don’t know how to feel about that.”

She’d been warm, funny, and caring when they’d talked. He’d felt bad about putting her to sleep so he could escape. Then she bit off a guy’s face in front of him.

“Villains aren’t a monolith.” Aizawa explained. “They are people; complex and contradictory like everyone else. They are capable of great things, terrible things, and both at the same time. What makes them dangerous isn’t their capacity for evil, but the way they view the world. Most of them think _ they’re _ the sane ones and the rest of us are compliant sheep participating in our own exploitation. The man who killed my mother couldn’t conceive of any future where she got clean and then made his belief into reality.” He tapped Izuku on the shoulder with his knuckles. “Be grateful because she wanted to help, but you don’t owe her any favors. You didn’t ask her to kill for you. She made that decision on her own.” Aizawa got up then and held a hand out for Izuku to take. “Are you ready to eat? Hizashi is frying up croquettes for lunch.”

“Oh man, croquettes sound  _ amazing.” _ His appetite was still out of control so he was instantly distracted by the prospect of fried food. Izuku let himself be encouraged downstairs and ate carbs until he passed out on the sofa. 

He felt way better once he’d woken up, but clearing away his mixed feelings about his dad and Asuka-san only made room for yet another mystery to plague him. 

Izuku found Aizawa lurking in his office. “Sensei?” He asked. “Can I borrow your tablet? I need to look something up and I haven’t set up the computer yet.”

Aizawa blinked slowly, but handed it over. Izuku went and sat on the floor by the wall. He had no idea why he felt safer near Aizawa in that moment, but he did and was willing to just go with it. He typed out ‘alexithymia’ into the search engine and spent an unhappy hour collecting more questions than he could find answers for.

Finally he gave the tablet back with a huff.

“No luck?” Aizawa asked, sliding it back into its neoprene sleeve.

“Too much luck.” Izuku replied honestly. “I told you about what dad was trying to do, right? With his feelings?”

“Yes.” Aizawa leaned forward and folded his hands. “He was trying to use the Force in order to cure his sociopathy.”

“That’s just it!” Izuku threw up his hands. “He shouldn’t have been able to!”

“I saw you make a lame man walk, Izuku.” Aizawa pointed out. “Is it  _ really _ impossible?”

“Yes!” Izuku started pacing. “Force healing like I did with Ingenium was repairing an injury. It was just speeding up his body’s natural process and giving it enough power to do something it wouldn’t normally be able to. If they’d sent me in to deal with a-a congenital heart defect then that would have been totally different! He’s almost neurotypical now. He would have basically had to perform brain surgery  _ on himself!” _

That left out how on earth he’d even learned to do it. Izuku had access to the same records and training materials his father had. His grandmother had pioneered several amazing Force Healing techniques, but Hisashi still wasn’t gifted as a healer. He could fix bruises, seal cuts, and maybe stabilize a fracture. That was a  _ long _ way away from brain surgery.

For a second Izuku thought Aizawa had finally come to appreciate just how crazy stupid the situation was, but then he realized that Aizawa’s gaze was focused over his shoulder and turned just as Aizawa lurched over his desk to haul Izuku away.

_ “My.” _ The Force Ghost covered her mouth with the hem of one sleeve like she was in a period drama. Her robes were sort of a mix between a kimono and their traditional robes. “How unnecessarily dramatic.”

“It’s you.” Izuku gulped. “You’re the one who helped me escape.”

“I did.” She agreed and something about her tone set off warning bells in the back of his head.

“...you also made it so Overhaul would spot me behind the railing.” He realized out loud. “You sent me down the ladder into the same alley as Overhaul’s goon.”

“I also led you to Hisashi’s lightsaber and the picture.” She agreed. “I’ve done a  _ lot _ of things, my dear boy, and the ripples cast by my interference will reach far.”

_ “You. _ It was you.” Izuku felt himself start to puff up with rage.

The things he’d considered impossible  _ weren’t _ if Hisashi had had a Master other than Jiisan. Force Lightning was an ability Izuku knew existed, but his ancestress hadn’t passed that one down. It was technically a neutral ability, but tapping into it required one to be very close to the Dark side; close enough to fall.

Izuku had assumed that his dad had taught himself, but he might not have.

Force Ghosts didn’t often interfere with the material realm. It didn’t mean they couldn’t.

“Izuku, get upstairs.” Aizawa hissed. “I’ll cover you.”

“No.” Izuku shook his head. “There’s nowhere to go. She’s not…” He looked back at her. “Who  _ are _ you?”

The ghost lowered her sleeve and smiled with genuine affection. “Izuku, dearest, you know who I am.”

… and he  _ did. _

He’d seen her face before. He hadn’t recognized her before because she’d maintained a careful distance between them, but up close? He knew that face. 

The ghost vanished as he made a break for the upstairs. Aizawa swore and charged after him followed soon by Mic and Hitoshi who were in the kitchen arguing about how to load the dishwasher when Izuku reached the stairs.

He ran for the living room and flipped the sofa over on its back with a flick of his wrist. He’d hidden the holocron there his first night; duct taping it to the wooden frame underneath the upholstery. 

“What did he…?” Mic squawked and then shushed himself as Izuku pulled the holocron free from its hiding place. “What is  _ that?” _

“It’s called a holocron.” Izuku checked it over. It wasn’t even dinged. He shouldn’t have been concerned. It had once survived a house fire that burned everything else down to ashes. “Sort of like an AI projector and digital archive.”

Izuku’s heart pounded in his chest as he set it on top of the coffee table. The holocron could only be activated by someone strong with the Force and he’d had relatives that had never been able open it, but it started to glow at the lightest touch of his mind.

A woman appeared over the holocron. It wasn’t a great projection by modern standards; all monochrome shades of pale blue and the image rattled every so often, still her voice was clear when she greeted him in Aurebesh. It was more intelligent than it looked. AI grew more complex with age and that one was very, very old.

_ “Greetings, Padawan” _ said an exact replica of the Force Ghost woman.  _ “What lesson would you like to access today?” _

_ “I just… I just need to look at you.” _ Izuku’s voice shook as he answered in that same language.

The projection smiled and crouched down closer so he could see her face better.

How could he have not known her right away? She had his father’s cheekbones and his grandfather’s eyes. Rather,  _ they _ had  _ her _ features. She had two diamond-shaped patches of freckles on each cheek, framing her eyes; perfectly  bi-symmetrical . 

...just like Izuku’s.

He closed the holocron and cradled it against his chest as he sat down heavily on the ground. 

“My great grandmother who’s been  _ dead for nearly three hundred years _ taught my dad to use the Dark side.” He announced, hoping it would sound less insane in his head. 

It didn’t.

“What?” said Aizawa.

_ “What?” _ said Mic and Hitoshi as one.

“That’s not exactly what happened.” His great grandmother commented from behind them where she was leaning against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest. “Are you ready to talk now, my dear?”

_ “No, go away.”  _ Izuku snapped in Aurebesh. It was a habit. He wasn’t used to talking to that face in Japanese. _ “I’m mad at you!” _

“That is justified.” She agreed in sedate Japanese and did not seem too bothered by it. “I understand why you’re upset. I hope you believe me when I say that I made sure you were never truly in danger.”

“Whoever you are, you need to leave.” Give Aizawa credit, he moved between Izuku and his great grandmother. 

“My name is Sabine Typho and you can try to make me, if you’d like.” She replied, smiling sweetly. Then she walked  _ through _ Aizawa to come sit on the ground next to Izuku.

Somehow, the realization that not only was his great grandmother walking the planet again but she was also an  _ enormous jerk _ settled Izuku enough that he picked himself up off the floor. 

“She’s not going to hurt anyone.” He looked at his great grandmother.  _ “Right?” _

“Of course not.” She said, projecting sincerity. “I only came to talk.”

“Izu, you need to explain what is going on.” Mic had Shinsou wedged behind him. “I am freaking out right now!”

“That’s my great grandmother. The one from the earliest journal.” Izuku swallowed. “She’s, um, she’s a ghost.”

“She looks like that projection your father sent.” Aizawa’s eyes were narrowed and fixed on her. Izuku realized that Aizawa had remembered what he’d said about his dad’s projection; it was one of the few Force techniques that could kill someone. He was deliberately drawing out the conversation hoping his great grandmother would hurt herself.

It would have been a solid plan if they weren’t dealing with something totally different.

“Um, it’s not the same.” He struggled for a second before Sabine stepped in. “It… she…”

“There is no emotion.” She said and Izuku was so conditioned to meditate along to that mantra that the tension drained out of him.

“There is peace.” He gave the traditional response.

“There is no ignorance.” She continued.

“There is knowledge.”

“There is no passion.”

“There is serenity.”

“There is no chaos.”

“There is harmony.”

She smiled sadly as she fed him the last time. “There is no death.”

Izuku sighed, heavy. “There is the Force.” He closed his eyes and found his explanation. “Every Force Adept rejoins the cosmic Force when they die. Sometimes when someone is very strong they can come back.” He pointed. “Like that.”

Sabine waved and said, “Hello.”

“Okay…” Mic looked at Aizawa and then at Izuku. “...what?”

“They don’t do it casually.” Izuku glared daggers at his great grandmother. “They aren’t  _ supposed _ to.”

“Oh, I didn’t.” She assured him. “We come when our students and loved ones need us.”

“...and dad needed you?” Izuku shook his head again.  _ “No, _ why you? Why not Jiisan? He was dad’s teacher.”

Sabine sighed and looked away. A curly section of white hair flopped into her eyes. “It’s because your grandfather is ashamed.” 

“What?” Izuku’s head snapped up.

“He knew your father was struggling even when he was a child.” She explained. “He decided that it would be easier for Hisashi to continue on as he was; that he’d been born with a gift. He believed you can’t be tempted by the Dark side if there’s no soil in your soul for it to take root in. He believed he would always be there to provide the guidance and support your father wouldn’t think to. He did not understand what kind of void he would leave behind when he died. I came because an intervention was necessary before Hisashi found the Dark side on his own and was consumed by it. There are two people your father will accept guidance from without question. Your grandfather… and me.”

“So you decided to  _ reprogram _ him?” 

She propped her chin up on the heel of her hand. “You’re partially right. I did help your father diagnose himself and perform his corrective surgery. It was his decision both times, but that only gave him the  _ capacity _ for deeper emotion. Light side practitioners seek to still their emotions and court harmony within the Force. They have no solutions to offer a young man who never had any emotions to calm. For that he needed time with the Dark side --carefully supervised time.” She added.

It sort of made sense. The Dark side encouraged emotional outbursts and all consuming feelings. The further you went the more you were voluntarily ruled by your own passion. Dark siders were, in the old writings, famous for getting so caught up in the means to their end that they eventually forgot about the end altogether.

If you were trying to cultivate regular emotional responses in a person with hardly any to begin with then those same techniques might also apply.

“He wasn’t… he wasn’t on the Dark side when I saw him last.” Izuku realized what had been bothering him so much. At the USJ his dad had clearly been leaning that way, but when they met in the warehouse he was solidly in the gray once more. 

“No, he was trained from birth by a Light side Force Adept. Once he had those feelings he eventually remembered how not to be ruled by them.” She agreed and then made a face. “It was something of a process, I will admit, but you were part of the reason he was able to pull back.”

That made no sense.

“So, what, he was saved by the magic of parental love?” Hitoshi griped and Izuku jumped, having forgotten they had an audience. “That’s crap.”

Sabine gave Hitoshi a measuring look. “I like him.” She told Izuku. “He is correct. The truth is that Force users influence each other. Your grandmother would call it physics, Izuku. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. The Force must always be in balance with itself. For every Force Adept associated with the Light another one turns to the Dark and eventually they destroy each other. That is why I taught my descendants to seek balance within ourselves; so we don’t repeat that cycle of tragedy.” She chucked his chin with a ghostly touch. “You and Hisashi are the only Force Adepts in the country so you both exert enormous influence on each other. Even so,  _ you _ are as normal a person as it’s possible for a Force Adept to be. You aren’t ruled by your passions, but you do have them.” 

Her faint smile turned into a proud beam. “You walk in the gray and by doing so you made space for Hisashi to find his own balance. I’m very proud of you, dearest. You have done well.”

She leaned in to press a kiss against his forehead and disappeared. A faint voice that Izuku was sure only he could hear whispered,  _ “We’ll meet again soon.” _

Mic jumped back and even Aizawa startled, looking around like he expected her to come back at any second.

Shinsou stepped around Mic and went over to pinch Izuku’s cheeks, pulling them in opposite directions. “Ghosts, Izu?  _ Seriously ghosts?”  _

“I sorreeee!” Izuku tried to apologize even though he couldn’t quite make all the sounds and Shinsou released his face. “Usually they don’t bother other people.” He rubbed the circulation back into his sore cheeks. 

“Usually.” Shinsou rubbed his eyes. “There are more?”

“My grandma visited once to give me some pointers when I tried to help Ingenium.” He explained. “They don’t usually give detailed answers like that either. She was unusually helpful. Force ghosts have visited some of my ancestors, but they always answered questions with more questions.”

“Not just ghosts;  _ Socractic _ ghosts, wonderful.” Mic complained. “She’s not going to keep doing that, is she?”

“Um.” Izuku pursed his lips and thought about it. According to the family records, once a person started seeing the ghosts they could expect regular future visits. Then there was what she’d whispered in his ear as she left. “You probably won’t see her again.”

“That wasn’t a no!”

Aizawa, meanwhile, was looking at the tiny valuable-looking holocron like he was connecting some dots in his head. He had somehow switched off his agitation; possibly by refocusing it on something else he could control. “You need a better hiding place for that.” He said. “Ransackers always toss the furniture first.”

“What?” Mic blinked at the holocron and Izuku felt a wave of affection for his guardians wash over him as he felt Mic switch gears too. 

Aizawa had done that on purpose, he realized, to distract his husband from the fact that they could be visited by really annoying ghosts anywhere at any time and there was no way to stop it. 

“He’s right.” Mic announced. “Come on, kids, I’m going to show you how to cut an invisible door in the ceiling. Sho, do you remember where my drywall knife is?” 

* * *

Hitoshi waited until he was sure his guardians had gone to sleep and the sound of snoring drifted down the hall. 

Mic and Aizawa had been running on adrenaline since Midoriya had been snatched. They hadn’t slept much at All Might’s place either. Aizawa alone had gotten up four times that night to walk the perimeter and do bed checks. They’d both sleep hard now that they were in their own bed with their own security system.

He’d figured out early on that the motion sensor wouldn’t alert Aizawa if Hitoshi only moved around the top floor at night. Aizawa would let it pass if Hitoshi just went down to the kitchen for a midnight snack, but he’d intervene if Hitoshi went anywhere else in the house.

Fortunately, Midoriya’s light was on so Hitoshi didn’t have to wake him up. 

Midoriya lay on his bed with his arms crossed under his head. A magazine floated in the air over his face, but bookmarked itself and flew over onto the nightstand when Hitoshi slipped into the room without knocking.

“Hey.” He said.

“Hey.” Hitoshi had been writing questions in his head all afternoon, but now that he had the chance to ask them all that came out was,  _ “Are you an alien?” _

Midoriya sat bolt upright and something about his guilty little face told Hitoshi he’d somehow hit the nail right on the fucking head. He’d been counting on being wrong, on there being a rational explanation for what he’d noticed that was _not_ _aliens._

“I don’t think so?” Midoriya squeaked. “I was born in Musutafu…” he corrected himself, “...and so was about nine generations of my family. Mom was born in Kansai and my grandmother was from Yamanshi.” He wet his lips and added in a much smaller voice, “We just… don’t really know where Sabine came from.”

Mic and Aizawa hadn’t really seemed to notice. In their defense, they were sleep deprived and really stressed out. Hitoshi lived like that so he was firing on more cylinders and had cottoned onto a few things their guardians seemed to have missed.

Izuku’s great grandmother didn’t really look all that weird by modern day post-Quirk Emergence standards. She had sharp, ridged cheekbones and an elongated face with snow white and silver eyes, but she’d been alive at the dawn of the 20th century. By  _ those _ standards she barely looked human.

“She had kids with my great grandfather and I  _ know _ he was native to Japan. The Midoriyas were in Kyoto since before the Heian era until Sabine married in and they moved to Musutafu.” Midoriya insisted in a rush, like he’d been waiting to talk to someone about this. “All her kids had kids with people from… here. That means something, right?”

That there were potentially aliens that could interbreed with humans? Hitoshi had no idea.

“She was the face in that holoprojector.” Hitoshi said. The likeness had been too good. She would have had to let herself be imaged to create a hologram  _ that _ faithful to the original model, but that would have been almost three hundred years ago. Modern freestanding holograms hadn’t been widely used in Japan until 2140.

“Yeah.” Izuku replied, sounding hollow. “The holocron is one of the original family artifacts handed down by her.”

He still had more questions. “What language were you two speaking?” 

“It’s called Aurebesh.” Izuku swallowed. “The holocron taught itself Japanese.” He whispered like he couldn’t stop himself from talking. “It translates the word ‘aurebesh’ as ‘galactic basic.’”

Izuku’s door  _ creeeeeeaked _ open just then to reveal Aizawa’s shadowed form and his twitching expression. He had his tablet in one hand and the doorknob clenched in the other.

He stared at them and they stared back. He had clearly been listening in and had heard either everything or just enough. The scar under his right eye trembled with repressed emotion better left unidentified.

_ “Go. To. Bed.” _ He said and shut the door again.

They stayed frozen until floorboards in the hallway stopped creaking.

“One last question?” Hitoshi asked.

“Yeah.” Midoriya looked down. 

This was the hard one. “Are you mad at your grandfather?” 

Midoriya didn’t pretend not to understand. Hitoshi had been following Sabine’s explanation very closely. He was secretly fascinated by Midoriya’s weirdo religion and he wasn’t quite ready to ask for a more complete explanation, but he paid close attention when it came up naturally in conversation. 

So he hadn’t missed it when Sabine mentioned that Midoriya’s grandfather was on the Light side nor had he missed it when she indirectly explained what that meant for Midoriya’s father.

“I’m not mad at him for that.” Izuku shook his head. “I don’t think he knew. I’m angry about other things, but not that. The Light side seems like the logical choice if you’re a moral person. I don’t think he would have made the same choices if he’d known it was possible to do evil by choosing good.”

There wasn’t a lot to say to that. “Okay.” Hitoshi got to his feet. Maybe he’d be able to get some sleep now that he had his answers. “Good night.”

Midoriya called after him though. “Um, Shinsou?”

Hitoshi hung back and cocked a quizzical brow at him.

“You called me Izu earlier.” He swallowed. “I liked that. Could… could I call you Hitoshi?”

Hitoshi had no recollection of doing that, but could believe it. His mental filter had been shot since the day before. 

“Tosh.” Hitoshi’s mouth went dry. “My mom and dad used to call me Tosh. You can call me that too.”

Izu’s answering smile put a lot of Hitoshi’s worries to bed. They were going to be okay.

...even if he was a ninth generation  _ alien. _

“Goodnight, Tosh.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I have FINISHED WRITING. Just got to finish the edits and then it's a wrap. 
> 
> The chapter count has gone up again because we have one last chapter after this full of fluffy good things and then an epilogue because I had once last scene to write and didn't know where else to put it.
> 
> You may notice that this and Paper Agency have series pages now. Paper Agency has most of a full sequel from Bakugo's perspective in the works and I'm almost finished. 
> 
> I also have part of an alternate version of this AU -an AU of an AU, if you will- that I'm going to post as a one shot because when I started the New Normal all I knew was that I wanted to do a Star Wars/BNA fusion, but couldn't decide which parent was going to be Izuku's master; Hisashi or Inko. I wrote those side by side for a bit before I really hit my stride with The New Normal. 'You and What Army' is shorter, choppier, and told from Inko's perspective.
> 
> I am also hoping to write a short sequel about Izuku's first work study experience, but that hasn't happened yet.


	13. Part Thirteen

* * *

A Few Days Later

* * *

There were four candidates for the late-start heroics entrance exam. 

Shinsou watched the other two students while Izuku sat off to one side doing a breathing exercise and trying not to psych himself out. He knew of their opponents from class; Oogata and Mae.

Oogata was a classic meathead. He was a powerhouse type; super strength, big bulging muscles, and a teensy tiny head. Rumor had it he’d actually qualified for heroics on the original exam in terms of villain points, but then lost a bunch on the secret portion of the exam because not only had they been assigning additional rescue points but you could also _lose_ points by attacking or screwing over other examinees. Oogata wasn’t mean or anything, but he got tunnel vision and didn’t really pay attention to how his actions affected other people; like the kid whose legs he broke by tossing a broken exam-bot out of his way without looking to see if there was someone already standing where it was going to land.

Mae was a pretty, popular type with sparkling laser eyes that even Shinsou knew would be _incredibly_ marketable. She wasn’t as strong as Aoyama and his navel laser, but she also didn’t get the gross side effects he had to deal with. It had taken her longer than Aoyama to disable the exam-bots and she’d _just_ missed the score necessary to pass. If he had to pick between the two of his non-Izu opponents, Hitoshi would have picked Mae as a hero candidate. She was genuinely nice and clever, but didn’t get puffed up about it. She’d make a great hero.

She was also his main competition. 

It was sort of liberating, not having to worry about Izuku. He was stupidly OP and was going to pass no matter what. That meant Hitoshi could focus on himself. 

The exam was taking place in one of the special gyms. It was divided up into lots of little chambers except for a big one in the back, but only four of them had been lit up. They were freestanding pods in the middle of the floor with a little space between each pod and an open area on the far side.

Nedzu stood between them and the pods as he introduced them to the exam.

“In a few minutes, each of you will be led into one of these chambers.” His whiskers quivered and Hitoshi really wished he could ask Izuku what was going through the principal’s mind right then. “When the buzzer sounds you must try to escape by whatever means necessary. There is a finishing line on the far side of the pods. The first two competitors to cross the line will be awarded a place in the heroics program. The remaining two will have another opportunity when and if another slot opens up.”

The chambers all opened as one and Ectoplasm coughed up four clones to guide each of them inside and then lock the door behind them.

It turned out that the inside of the chamber was covered in different doors. Hitoshi remembered seeing some extra seams on the outside of the testing chambers, but not enough to correspond to all the ones he could see. They were everywhere, even hatches on the ceiling. Some of them had to be red herrings. Others, possibly all of them, would be locked. There was some junk on the floor that could potentially be used as a battering ram and some other stuff that he could possibly use as lock picks.

Hitoshi’s gaze fell on the biggest door opposite the one he’d entered through. It looked like a fire door with one of those big horizontal push bars on it.

Hitoshi had never really known his dad. He’d died of septicemia when Hitoshi was two, but he’d had his mom until he was around eight and she’d been a firefighter. 

“You’d be surprised how often people don’t try the knob.” She’d told him once when discussing some particularly stupid trainees she was supervising. “They always assume it’s locked and try to bust it down.”

So when the buzzer sounded, Hitoshi went over and pushed the big door open.

Ectoplasm and Powerloader were waiting on the other side. Nedzu did love his special twists. 

“What’s up?” He deadpanned and waved one lazy hand.

Ectoplasm, thank god, took the bait. “Nice try, ki…” His shoulders dropped, his eyes went blank, and Hitoshi _had_ him.

“Pin him down!” Hitoshi ordered Ectoplasm, pointing to Powerloader. “Don’t let him up!”

“What the fu…!” Powerloader was cut off as Ectoplasm turned and barfed clones all over him. They all came alive and dogpiled onto the other hero.

Hitoshi bolted for the finish line and slid across it right into… first place?

He looked back to the other test pods. A mighty banging and clanging came from inside Oogata’s chamber. Mic and Aizawa were watching that one and looked conspicuously bored until Mic noticed Hitoshi had already finished and started smacking his husband in the shoulder to make him look. Aizawa turned slightly in his direction and gave him a nod of approval that warmed Hitoshi right down to his bones. Izuku’s pod was still closed, although the heroes watching his door -Midnight and Hound Dog- were both distracted and laughing at Ectoplasm and Powerloader. 

The door on Mae’s chamber was punched open by a silver laser that dripped star-like sparkles in its wake. Mae herself got unfortunately tossed right back inside when Snipe clotheslined her after she made a break for the outside. The other hero watching her door was Cementoss so her door was replaced by a thick wall of concrete. 

“Come on.” Hitoshi stared at Izuku’s chamber and… _wait._

He spotted a little head with familiar green curls peeking around the side of the testing chamber to see the heroes gatekeeping his exit.

* * *

Izuku’s nerves evaporated as Ectoplasm’s clone shut him into the chamber. He could tell what the parameters of the test were right away. This exam, unlike the big one, was formulated to let people with perception or manipulation quirks excel. It made sense. They already had plenty of student heroes who could punch robots. Late entry exams would let them flesh out the _other_ parts of the heroics program.

Not all the doors were doors and not all the doors led somewhere he wanted to go. The big door opposite him had two people on the other side. He couldn’t tell who beyond one was male and one was female, but that was enough. Of all the teachers, Midnight was the one he needed to beware the most. The Force wouldn’t save him from Somnambulist if she caught him with it. 

He picked another direction. One of the real, but locked doors led out the side of the pod. Izuku knelt next to it, reached out with his feelings, and quietly disengaged the lock. It wasn’t a complicated lock -basically a cam lock like you’d find on a filing cabinet- and he was able to rotate the interior metal flange to disengage it without any difficulty.

A huge noise came from the direction of Hitoshi’s pod; Powerloader was hollering at Ectoplasm. Izuku smiled. _Someone_ had let Hitoshi get control.

More noise came from the other pod next to him. The boy inside had spiralled rapidly out of control and Izuku made a mental note that he wouldn’t be able to knock Midnight out like he’d originally planned if they ended up needing her to knock _him_ out. 

He crept up to peek around the corner and see what he had to work with. 

Midnight and Hound Dog were guarding his pod, but they were both watching Ectoplasm’s clones pin Powerloader to the ground. They’d been laughing, but it was clear they were finding the situation less funny as it went on. 

He could make a break for it, but he spotted Midnight’s bullwhip in her hand. It was more sophisticated than it looked. Like Aizawa’s capture scarves, it was made of intelligent carbon fibers and she was _very_ skilled with it. It tripled her effective range because she could use it to drag people back into range of her quirk. 

Hound Dog was also a dangerous opponent. He was strong, fast, and had lightning reflexes. It was a short shot to the finish line, but Izuku didn’t think he could beat Hound Dog in a sprint if they were that close.

Nedzu hadn’t pulled any punches.

Hitoshi bolted out of his pod and slid across the finish line and Izuku covered his mouth to keep from cheering. His friend looked around, maybe expecting to find him there already.

The fourth pod blew open, but the girl inside didn’t get far before Cementoss sealed her right back in. 

‘I need to get out there.’ Izuku realized. He could not afford to spare a second or Mae-san would snatch the other slot out from under him. 

Hitoshi found Izuku then. He looked at Izuku and looked at the kerfluffle going on in front of his empty testing chamber. For a second Izuku thought he was going to release Ectoplasm, but then Hitoshi smiled, stuck his hands in his pockets, strolled over to a bench that had been set up for the first competitors to escape their chambers, sat down, crossed his legs at the knee, and settled in to wait.

Izuku snorted, amused. He didn’t need help, but Hitoshi wasn’t really _helping_ was he? He just wasn’t getting in the way.

Hound Dog lost his patience and waded into the pile to get Powerloader out. Midnight shouted after him and after a second went to go haul him back.

Just like that, Izuku had the window he needed. He charged out of his hiding spot.

Hound Dog was too focused on getting to Powerloader, but Midnight spotted him right away.

“Oh no you _don’t,_ my cute little bunny!” She cackled and lashed out with her whip. Izuku felt the energy fluctuations around it and realized that he _could_ do something about it. It really was exactly like the capture scarves. He’d figured out that he could manipulate the electrostatic pulses Aizawa used to control his scarves. He hadn’t done it during training yet because Aizawa was almost always airborne and Izuku didn’t want to risk hurting the man, but to be honest he’d also been saving that trick for a rainy day.

 _‘Looks like it’s raining.’_ Izuku thought to himself, pivoted on his heel, and swatted the air in Midnight’s direction. Her whip fell to the ground totally inert. Izuku completed his turn and crossed the finish line with a shout. 

Hitoshi barked a laugh and gave Izuku the thumbs up. 

“All right, all right.” Midnight chuckled. “You win.” She turned around, walked up to Ectoplasm, and socked him hard enough to break Hitoshi’s hold on him. All the clones evaporated and Powerloader sat up crankily.

Mae punched through the top of her pod then and used her laser to propel herself backwards over Cementoss’s head. She landed over the finish line in a roll and her victory faded slowly into dismay as she realized that she’d finished third.

Izuku went over to offer her a hand up. “That move was really cool.” He said, hoping she believed he was being genuine. He could suddenly understand why Nedzu had encouraged him to look at other Hero schools if he had to. He really wanted to see her succeed and UA only seemed to be holding her back.

Mae’s mouth quirked in a rueful smile as she brushed her long black hair out her face. “I should have led with it.” She sighed and hissed as she stood up. The floor was hard and she’d landed heavily. “Should have known there’d be a secret twist.”

“You’re gonna make it.” Izuku promised. “You’re too cool not to. Can I help you to the bench?”

“Please? I landed on my hip. It's gonna bruise like crazy.” Mae leaned on his shoulder as they walked slowly back to the bench where they all watched Oogata bang against the inside of his pod until the timer ran out.

Nedzu approached Izuku while Chiyo-sensei was looking over the other examinees. Mae and Oogata were both pretty roughed up and Hitoshi had been pulled in to act as her nurse.

“Congratulations.” He said. “I’m looking forward to seeing your performance in class at last. Did you bring it?”

Izuku reached into his pocket and brought out his completed lightsaber.

“Excellent.” Nedzu nodded in the direction of one of the bigger testing chambers; the one that took up the entire south-facing wall of the gym. “This way.”

Nedzu led him away and into a small testing ground set up to look like a city block. The set was powered down, but Izuku could see several exam-bots crouched around corners and hiding in windows just from the entrance. 

“This is usually reserved for the third year midterm exams.” Nedzu explained. “It’s an obstacle course. We’re upgrading it this year.”

Izuku frowned. “...why are you showing me this, sir?”

“I’d like to see you run the course.” Nedzu’s whiskers twitched. “This would be voluntary and won’t affect your entrance into Heroics one way or the other. You passed a fair exam already. You would only be satisfying my curiosity. Of course, if you want to make it interesting…”

Izuku cocked his head to show he was listening.

“...if you complete the course in under five minutes then I’ll double your costume budget.” He offered.

To be honest, Izuku’s needs were very modest. He’d already set up his costume under Mic’s watchful eye and had come in way under what he’d been allotted even after adding in extra gear he didn’t need. Hitoshi on the other hand needed way more. Weapons were expensive, even stock gear like the capture scarves and he was having to figure out what he could sacrifice to afford a voice changer that wouldn’t interfere with his quirk.

“Triple _Shinsou’s_ budget and I’ll finish under four.” Izuku promised rashly.

“Well now that would be very entertaining.” Nedzu’s held out a paw. “A gentlebeing’s agreement, then.”

They shook on it.

* * *

Oogata was the one who noticed first. Mic happened to overhear it when he turned to Hitoshi and asked, “Where did your boyfriend go?”

Hitoshi turned bright, bright red and managed to say “He’s not my boyfriend!” in about as civil a tone as one reasonably could given the circumstances.

“You guys aren’t together?” Oogata shrugged. “You should probably stop making that face when Mae-chan talks to him in that case.”

Hizashi had sort of noticed the pinched, annoyed looks Hitoshi had been shooting at the pretty young girl too. Neither of the boys had really exhibited any interest in romance yet so Hizashi hadn’t been able to decide if Hitoshi was annoyed about sharing the attention of his best (and at the moment only) friend or if he was worried about suddenly being faced with a potential romantic rival. It was so hard to tell when they were that age.

He wondered if the poor kid knew he had _way_ bigger problems on that front than Mae-chan, who was already in a happily committed relationship, if so.

“Anyway, where’d he go?” Oogata continued, looking around.

“Midoriya went off with the principal.” Mae returned to the group just in time to overhear Oogata’s second question, but thankfully not what had come before it. She was walking gingerly from where Chiyo had been fixing up the road rash and bruised bone she’d picked up from her landing. 

Hizashi saw Shouta freeze out the corner of his eye and slowly turn with a twitching, pinched expression that promised mayhem --sort of like the faces Hitoshi had been making at Mae, come to think of it.

He was starting to wonder if Shouta had donated to a sperm bank at some point and forgot about it.

A warning light sounded from the back of the gym and Hizashi realized he’d been worrying about the wrong thing. The big open gate closed with a hiss of steam and lit up with the words, ‘NO ENTRY. TESTING IN PROGRESS.’

“Is that the Gauntlet?” Midnight asked out loud, echoing all the alarmed thoughts of the assembled faculty. “Who’s in there? I thought it had been mothballed ahead of the downgrade.”

Hizashi was pretty sure he could guess and crossed his arms over his chest as Shouta stomped off towards the observation level.

Midnight looked back at him. “Aren’t you going to stop him?”

“Nope.” Hizashi huffed. “Nedzu got himself into this mess. He can get himself out. I’m not saving him this time!”

Hitoshi followed Shouta though and that time Hizashi did follow if only because someone probably ought to hold the teenager back while Shouta menaced their employer. 

Nedzu was in the main observation chair when they caught up to him, chatting with Izuku through the loudspeaker. Yagi, who’d been watching the exam from the observation level to conserve the time he had with his still limited quirk use, was fretting ineffectually from one of the guest seats. 

“...the robots are scheduled to be scrapped.” Nedzu said, ignoring Yagi. “The AI all appreciate your concern, but they’re piloting those bodies remotely from the central server bank. No one is installed locally. You can break anything you need to... one moment.” He tabbed off the speaker. “Aizawa-kun, Yamada-kun, Shinsou-kun. You’re all just in time.”

“Sir, this really isn’t necessary.” Yagi cut in. 

“You’re the one who brought it to my attention, Yagi-kun.” Nedzu replied, unruffled. He glanced over Shouta and Mic. “I suspect you two haven’t seen the footage.”

“What footage?” Hizashi looked at Yagi. He turned red like a guilty, guilty bastard.

“Oh, you’ll _like_ this, Aizawa-kun.” Nedzu turned his chair and brought up a video clip on one of the big view screens.

The video was grainy security footage that jumped to a different perspective every few minutes. It showed Izuku darting across the screen at a speed… “Is that on fast forward?” Mic asked.

“No.” Nedzu steepled his paws as they watched Izuku jump a single story building on the screen. 

The recording cut in a few places where the security cameras lost him or weren’t functioning. Other bits were too corrupt to make heads or tails of until the video switched to the view into an alley from across the street. Izuku was backing away from someone in a suit.

“It’s that yakuza.” Hitoshi murmured. 

On screen, the yakuza pulled out a gun and Hizashi realized they were about to see someone die… only there was a muzzle flash on the screen and then somehow Izuku had a lightsaber out. It wasn’t the green one he’d been working on in the evenings. It was red and bit longer in the blade like it had been made for someone taller. 

_Right,_ he’d stolen Dragon’s sword on his way out. 

Detective Tsukauchi had assumed that saber was the same one Izuku had used at the USJ. There hadn’t been good footage of the Landslide zone and what are the odds of there being _two_ impossible laser swords in existence? So far nobody had noticed the different colors and no-one in the Yamada-Aizawa household was about to point it out.

They’d agreed to keep that matter from the police. Mic believed in the law, but he also was too familiar with the way custom support tech that counted as evidence in an open investigation sometimes went missing around certain people who believed it didn’t count as ‘stealing’ if you did it while wearing a badge.

Hizashi had never been on the business end of a cease and desist from some rando who’d mysteriously acquired exclusive rights to distribute his personal hero gear, but he knew too many people who had. 

Thankfully the footage stopped then before anyone had to see the gunman’s final fate. Hizashi had already seen the morgue shots and a few stills of Wendigo that would haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life. He was good, thanks.

“I thought the detective said the guy only _threatened_ Izu with the gun.” Hitoshi had been paying better attention than Hizashi. “He fired!”

“This footage was only just reconstructed from digital fragments left behind by Dragon’s hacker.” Yagi explained softly. “The forensic team wasn’t able to find any bullets and assumed that he wouldn’t have missed Izuku when shooting at point blank range. They were very thorough. The gunman is believed to have been a member of the Eight Rings. He would have been carrying a type of bullet that the police are _very_ interested in, but that gun wasn’t recovered from the scene. They would have combed that entire block looking for the spent bullet. I’m not inclined to believe they missed it, which leaves us with one other option.”

Hizashi looked back at the laser sword. Izuku had swung it up and over… like he was _deflecting_ something. 

“Wendigo took the gun.” Nedzu tapped his paw pads together. “Overhaul had recently tried to threaten them into providing logistics for the Eight Rings. She would have been curious about what it was he wanted them to move.” 

“Not the point, sir.” Hizashi murmured and looked at the other feeds from down below. 

Izuku was down there bopping from side to side, psyching himself up.

“Midoriya-kun, are you ready?” Nedzu spoke into the mic again. 

The boy on screen gave them a thumbs up and Nedzu hit the timer. The overhead start signal lit up the roof of the urban team combat simulation, known affectionately as the Gauntlet by all the third years whose asses it had kicked, and the kid was off.

The Gauntlet was one of the few training tools in recent years that had required an update not because the difficulty curve it presented wasn’t steep enough anymore, but because it was _too_ steep. Only one team of students had successfully navigated it in the previous year. It had been Nejire, Toogata, and Amajiki; UA’s current Big Three. 

It had taken them five tries. 

Every robot in the starting line, all forty five of them, sat up and turned to focus on the lone runner. Izuku gestured and all of them shut themselves right back off.

“He dislodged their internal power supplies.” Nedzu announced after checking a few screens.

“Wait, the exam bots can be disabled by just by _jiggling the batteries?”_ Hizashi looked at Shouta, who was watching the screens with great intensity. Izuku had just cut the difficulty in half by freeing up the center street. Most of their students had to cut around the first wave robots and go through the ‘town’ or over the rooftops where the street level bots couldn’t reach. The thing was there were more traps and terrain hazards that way. By comparison, there weren't nearly as many obstacles down 'main street' although that didn't mean there weren't any hazards that way.

“They can be disabled lots of ways, but Powerloader’s design was a little _too_ good this time. They network with each other to coordinate attacks and each one has its own processors, which gives them a sort of distributed and enhanced intelligence. The entire simulation can be run by one AI if need be and sometimes they do it just for fun. The students don’t have much opportunity to take the big wave robots out before the robots dogpile them. It’s almost impossible to brute force your way through without a good AOE attack.”

On screen Izuku somersaulted over a seemingly benign patch of road, which slid apart to reveal a plexiglass dome trap that tried to snap over him and missed him by inches. He avoided a pit trap and several oversized stinger strips that popped up underfoot the same way. 

He pulled out the lightsaber seconds ahead of the appearance of three gunbots who crawled out from several street-facing windows like spiders and clung to the wall as they trapped him in a crossfire of salt pellets. It wasn’t a lethal trap, but it was an annoying and painful lesson about letting yourself get caught in the open.

Izuku, though, was not caught. Hizashi vaguely recalled him telling them why he liked his defensive sword style so much. It had been back before they’d really understood about the whole ‘Force’ thing and, watching his kid bat bullets out of the air without getting so much as a scratch, Hizashi decided he was a big fan of it too.

There must have been an AI steering the drone cams because it started to really get into the recording about then and a little closeup of burnt pellets raining down around his kid’s red sneakers appeared off to one side of the main screen.

The gunbots paused to reload and Izuku threw the lightsaber at them. Hizashi clamped down on his mouth with both hands to stop his reflexive ‘NO’ because you NEVER _throw_ your weapon! Only it whizzed around like a glowing boomerang to behead one… no, two… shit, no, _all three_ gunbots in an impossible arc before spinning back to Izuku who caught it and kept running. 

Nedzu quietly flicked a few more switches on the control board. The two tallest buildings in the simulation shook and then came apart to reveal the Zero Point exam-bot’s bigger, meaner, uglier older siblings. 

Izuku dodged falling debris on the road and darted ahead as the Zero Pointer 2.0 to the left started to swing at him. For some reason the one on the right didn’t move. Was it broken? 

The moving Zero Pointer missed Izuku by a mile and for some reason continued through with its strike in an upward arc --that plowed right into the head of the other giant robot, which had started to tremble like it wanted to move and couldn’t. The remaining Zero Pointer was fenced in by buildings so once Izuku was out of reach it couldn’t do anything to him. 

Izuku hit the finish platform to slam his hand down on the finish button. He frowned as the big clock overhead kept running and only just avoided the _second_ wave of melee robots that poured down on him from their overhead deployment lockers. 

He gritted his teeth and pulled out the lightsaber one more time. The second wave of robots were too close to try the battery trick on again. It was fast, brutal combat and Hizashi gave up being surprised and finally just got his phone out to get a recording of his kid slicing one particularly nasty bot clean in half. Any fallen robot became a blunt object that lifted itself off the ground and started whaling on their former comrades. 

In retrospect, a couple of dust cloths tidying up a bedroom by themselves wasn’t so alarming.

“I know it’s a cult...” Hitoshi commented, sounding bemused. “... but I think I could put up with it if it meant being able to do _that.”_

Izuku blew out his breath as the last robot fell and slammed the finish button again with an expression that _dared_ Nedzu to try another dirty trick. The clock halted at 3:47.

The fastest anyone had ever finished the Gauntlet was six minutes and twelve seconds and that had been a team of ten kids.

Hizashi turned to look at his husband and found him grinning at the screen with a look of feral anticipation that no student in their right mind _ever_ wanted to see. Every single one of his flat, even teeth were on display and he looked like a crazy person. 

It was the look Shouta saved for those students who he’d decided were worthy of extra, _extra_ attention.

“Why is his face doing that?” Hitoshi asked in alarm. “Someone make him stop!”

The elevator up from the ground level disgorged a sweaty, but glowing teenage boy who had no idea what was waiting for him.

“Yagi-san, did you see?” He paused as he realized he’d had a slightly larger audience than anticipated. 

“We all saw.” Yagi patted Izuku’s head with one giant hand. “You should tell young Shinsou the terms of your bet.”

Izuku stole a look at Shouta, who still had his crazy face on. “O-oh, um.” He looked at Shouta and started edging over to hide behind Yagi. “Is he okay?” 

“I…” Shouta announced, focused in on Izuku like a laser scope. “...have not been pushing you _nearly_ hard enough.”

Hizashi clapped his hands and said a brief prayer for Izuku’s soul. Maybe the Force would listen to the wishes of a middle aged agnostic. Hizashi hoped so. 

Izu was going to need all the help he could get _real_ soon.

“Congratulations, Shinsou-kun.” Nedzu finally stepped in to diffuse the situation.

“What?” Hitoshi looked around. “Why me?”

“I made a little bet with Midoriya-kun and it looks like he won.” Nedzu’s whiskers twitched in silent amusement. “The prize was an increase to your costume budget.”

Shinsou blinked. “Wait, really?”

“It’s been tripled.”

Hizashi swooped in to get his stunned teenager in a one armed hug. “That’s great!” He squeezed and soaked in the sight of Hitoshi’s stunned, happy smile. “You don’t have to choose anymore!”

“Izu…” Hitoshi swallowed hard. “...thanks.”

Yagi paused and pulled out his phone. Interestingly, it was on vibrate for once in his life. He looked at the screen and a big smile broke out over his features.

“We’re going out for dinner.” Hizashi announced, partially to distract everyone else from whatever was going on over there. Yagi could be an attention magnet, but he deserved privacy once in a while too. “Celebrations all around!”

“You might want to postpone that.” Yagi replied to Hizashi’s surprise. He turned to look down at Izuku. “Young man, we have an appointment at the airport.”

It took Hizashi a moment to realize what Yagi must have meant and it took Izuku a minute longer before brilliant, tremulous hope bloomed over his face.

“Is it mom?” He asked breathlessly and the bottom fell out of Hizashi’s stomach at Yagi’s reply.

“It sure is.” He said. “Jetstream did me a favor and got a plane out to her. They made better time than expected. They’ll touch down in half an hour.”

Hizashi remembered all but nothing of the train ride out to Jetstream’s private airstrip. It was outside of Musutafu by a fair bit. Yagi went separately because Izuku’s mother had travelled with a staggering amount of luggage, which Hizashi supposed made sense for someone who was supposed to have been out on the icepack for a whole year.

They beat Yagi to the airstrip. All Might might be able to break the sound barrier, but his old beater could not. Shouta held Hizashi’s hand in his pocket as they made their way into the little airstrip building where Jetstream’s little plane waited for them.

Izuku was shaking so hard he was in danger of shaking himself into his component atoms. Hizashi could sympathize. 

This was it. 

All his plans and ideas seemed… futile all of a sudden. He’d known that there was a big chance he wouldn’t get to keep Izuku, but he’d thought he’d have more _time._

 _‘We’ll still have Hitoshi.’_ Hizashi told himself. _‘We’ll see each other at school. They’ll visit each other too. This isn’t the end.’_

A small woman stood at the rear of the plane directing Jetstream’s current crop of interns as they unloaded a bunch of blue plastic crates labelled ‘TAUPO RESEARCH COLLECTIVE - DEEP SEA DIVISION.’

She was little and a bit stout around the middle with shoulder length green hair in a shade Hizashi recognized all too well. She was wearing an oversized pink sweatshirt that hit her about mid-thigh, patterned blue leggings, and a pair of pink crocs with white socks.

“Mom!” Izuku broke away from them.

The woman turned and all at once Hizashi knew exactly who it was Izuku had taken after. She had huge, expressive green eyes and a round face. She met her son halfway in a big hug and whooped in surprise when he lifted her off her feet. 

“You grew!” She exclaimed and then her lower lip started to wobble as she patted Izuku’s face. So of course Izuku started tearing up too and they cried all over each other. Apparently he’d come by it honestly.

Eventually the waterworks died down and Izuku guided her over to introduce everyone. It was then that Hizashi finally got a good look at the front of her sweatshirt. It was a long slogan in English.

“Oh no.” He caught himself on a damp chuckle. “You’re going to like her, Sho.”

“Is it the shirt?” He guessed. “I can’t read the punchline. It’s in cursive. I can only read english in print.”

“It says ‘I’ve got 99 problems and you’re going to show your work on every last one of them’.” Hizashi translated. 

“Akatani-sensei.” Shouta bowed slightly when they got into range. “How was your flight?”

“It was long, but I’m glad to have arrived. Are you Eraserhead?” She asked and then looked at Hizashi when he nodded. “Then that means you’re Present Mic. I’m so happy to meet you finally.”

“Me?” Hizashi looked at Shouta and abruptly smelled a rat. “You two have been talking?”

Akatani-sensei frowned at Shouta. “I got in contact with Shouta-san a little while ago when we were able to leave the research vessel. I thought he would have mentioned it. That was bad, Shouta-san.”

She’d have had better luck scolding a cat, but Hizashi found himself warming to her despite all his misgivings just for making the effort.

“How did you get loose so quickly?” Izuku had his arm around her shoulders and looked like he might never let go. “I’m glad, but your contract with Greenwich was supposed to have been really airtight. I wasn’t expecting them to let you go until the project ended.”

“It worked in my favor this time.” Akatani-sensei smiled a prim, sweet little smile. “Doctor Mueller was leading Greenwich’s team and you know how he is.” She chuckled when Izuku made a face that implied this Mueller person was, at best, an enormous asshole. “We all had dedicated freezers for our samples and, as usual, he filled his up too quickly and demanded one of ours.” Her smile took on a sharper edge. “Normally I would have shared a shelf or two in one of mine, but this time we all decided enough was enough and we dug our heels in. Well, Doctor Mueller didn’t like that. One night he snuck in and unplugged our freezers. He called it a tragic accident, but that we should be happy because we were free to share now that we didn’t need them anymore.” 

Hizashi frowned. “Wait, really?”

“He’s got a thing about anyone with the word ‘technician’ in their job title.” Izuku explained. “He thinks that means they’re support staff and all the support staff should work for him. If you work for him then all your gear belongs to him too. If he doesn’t get his way, he breaks stuff you can’t replace. I think he’s got tenure or blackmail wherever he works and his university keeps loaning him to private research and salvage companies operating out in the ice like they’re hoping a polar bear will eat him.”

Akatani-sensei nodded with a little sparkle in her eye that reminded him uncomfortably of Nedzu. “Wouldn’t you know it? There is a clause in TRC’s agreement with Greenwich Survey Corps saying TRC’s staff must be allowed to complete our own research objectives without interference during these cooperative missions. Sabotaging our irreplaceable samples is in direct violation of that agreement and Frida just so happened to have left her webcam running so we caught him in the act. We got off at the next port stop. The others let me go ahead with Jetstream in exchange for taking some of our more delicate equipment with me.”

If Hizashi understood what he’d just heard correctly, Akatani-sensei had responded to being denied leave by engineering some kind of gaslight coup and got her entire team in on it. 

_Oh no._

He liked her _too._

Shouta caught his eye and slowly winked at him. Hizashi had no idea what his play was. They were still going to lose custody at this rate unless something changed drastically.

Akatani-sensei glanced over his shoulder at that point and blinked in surprise. When Hizashi turned around he found that Yagi had finally caught up with them.

He blinked hard and stared too. 

Hizashi had been wondering how they’d beat Yagi out to the airstrip. The train was faster than Yagi’s truck, but they’d had to wait on a taxi to take them from the station to Jetstream’s hangar. The answer was that Yagi had gone home to change.

Everyone had noticed that Yagi had packed on weight in recent weeks. It was almost all muscle, but not quite. He wasn’t anywhere close to where he’d once been. Once Hizashi had realized that Yagi’s quirk had a transformative element he’d been able to look back on old footage of All Might and pick out when he’d been puffed up and when he wasn’t. During his heyday, there hadn’t been much difference between All Might’s two forms. It was more noticeable now.

The Yagi who walked in looked his age, but was also _incredibly_ fit for a guy in his late forties. He was dressed in clothes that fit for once; a tight white shirt, sparkling dog tags on a chain around his neck, brand new olive cargo pants, a letterman jacket tossed over one shoulder, and… had he _shined_ his belt buckle? He’d even done something with his hair.

Earlier he’d been wearing a yellow pinstripe suit four sizes too big that made him look like a football coach trapped into reluctantly teaching geography.

“O-oh!” Akatani-sensei made a tiny little noise as he approached. “Toshinori-san, is that you?”

 _Oh._ Shouta hadn’t been the only chatting with her on the sly.

“Inko, sorry I’m late.” He favored them with a movie-star smile that Hizashi only just managed to keep himself from punching.

That _rat_ was doing an end run around them!

“Shouta!” He hissed.

“I know.” Shouta did not seem to appreciate the gravity of the situation, but still brushed his thumb soothingly over Hizashi’s knuckles in the privacy of his pocket. “I see.”

Akatani-sensei reacted pretty much like anyone would when All Might put special effort in to charm them. “You… you’re taller that I expected.” She turned pink and hid behind her son. It was fatally adorable and Hizashi saw Yagi’s charming mask crack a little with something that looked an awful lot like anxiety.

 _Was_ he doing an end run around them?

Hizashi squinted until he realized that Yagi was 1.) sweating, 2.) wearing just a little too much cologne, and 3.) invested in making a good impression on a cute single mom like only a semi-retired bachelor who’d never dated before could be.

Akatani-sensei peeked around Izuku’s shoulder with an equally nervous and hopeful smile --aaand Hizashi could hear the wedding bells already.

Fortunately, Izuku didn’t seem to notice. He wasn’t really tuned in to the intricate dance of courtship the way he was with other conditions of the human spirit and Hizashi kind of envied him right then.

They made plans to go back to Hizashi and Shouta’s place. Izuku and Akatani-sensei rode with Yagi, but he, Shouta, and Hitoshi still managed to beat them to the house because you can be sure Yagi took his sweet time with that drive. 

It was just as well. It gave Hizashi time to hide the laundry he’d been folding and put Shouta’s stacks of excessive assignments away in the basement before he had to deal with houseguests. 

Hitoshi was uncharacteristically quiet and just changed out of his gym clothes before sitting himself on the couch with his racing game. They’d talked a little bit about some of the unique experiences of living in long term foster care and how many times he’d had friends and trusted adults vanish from his life. Hizashi wanted to reassure him, but knew anything he said would sound like a lie when he didn’t really know what would happen.

Yagi appeared with Izuku, Izuku’s mother, and a shopping bag full of premium beer.

They ordered takeout and most of the evening was spent catching Akatani-sensei up on what she’d missed over the past 72 hours she’d been out of contact with Shouta. Halfway through the story she pulled her son into a hug and held onto him like a teddy bear, which he soaked up like a little green sponge. 

Hitoshi watched like he’d bitten into a lemon, but kept his peace. Shouta continued to be unreadable. 

Hizashi excused himself afterwards to deal with the dishes and because he needed a little space. He didn’t expect Akatani-sensei to follow him.

“Yamada-san?” She joined him at the sink. “May I help?”

Saying ‘no’ wouldn’t be gracious so Hizashi put on his big boy pants with great effort and said, “Thanks.”

The rinsed dishes for a while until she found her voice. “So… I was thinking.” She stole a sideways look at him. “Shouta-san mentioned that there will be a training camp for the first half of summer break, but the student heroes will be free for the second half. Izuku mentioned that Hitoshi-kun was interested in scuba diving. I’ve got an instructor’s license and Toshinori-san is willing to supervise so I thought maybe I could take the boys off your hands for a little vacation. You and Shouta-san probably haven’t had much downtime lately.”

Hizashi stopped, blinked, and turned slowly to face her as confusion and hope went to war in his chest. “The boys?” He echoed, emphasising the plural.

“Yes, the…” She frowned and her brows drew together. “...he didn’t tell you. That man!” She shot a dire look over her shoulder in the general direction of the living room. “I swear he’s doing it on purpose.”

“He usually is.” Hizashi replied on autopilot, shook himself, and got back into the conversation they were actually having. “What do you mean?”

She sobered. “Did Izuku tell you why I left Japan?”

She’d left because Dragon, Wendigo, and Maw had rained down terror on her until she finally broke and ran. Having dealt with them now himself he was glad she had. Dragon, he sort of trusted to have been bluffing. Maybe. There was no telling when Wendigo would have lost patience with the game though and ended it in the most permanent way possible. “Your ex was threatening you.” 

“Something of an understatement, but yes.” She chuckled without mirth. “Working with the Research Collective has been an amazing experience, but it’s not an attractive post for many people or anyone with family. You have to live on site or wherever they send you and the facility can’t support extra residents. They sign new employees to long term contracts and… well, I wasn’t negotiating at my best when I applied.” She glanced up at him. “I’m signed to a ten year contract. I won’t be eligible to re-negotiate until halfway through. The Collective was willing to collude with me so I could get back to Japan sooner and mostly to screw Mueller over, but they aren’t willing to let me quit. Izuku can’t stay with me and I can’t get loose. Shouta-san implied that you might be willing to split custody with me. I have very generous leave. Izuku would stay here for the school year and we could split the breaks or… or I could spend some of them here if you’d be willing to have me.”

“Yes, absolutely!” Hizashi’s mouth said. The rest of him wasn’t too far behind, to be honest. 

Akatani-sensei was objectively adorable, like an older female Izuku, and frighteningly intelligent. She’d been putting up with Shouta’s shit for weeks apparently and hadn’t done more than get vaguely annoyed. All the reasons Hizashi’d been digging in his heels evaporated on him and he was 100% ready for a new friend.

She turned pink and got a little misty around the eyes. “Are you sure the rest of your family won’t mind having a strange adult around?”

“The rest of my…” Hizashi’s mood dimmed a little as he realized what she was getting at. “...oh, them. It’s not really an issue. They put up with Shouta while we were in school, but when we graduated and it looked like we were in it for the long haul my folks started to get nervous. They made an ultimatum; him or them. I picked them for like two weeks before I realized what a mistake I was making and went crawling back to Shouta. Never looked back either.” 

It had been the worst two weeks of his life. He’d been missing his boyfriend and making some questionable choices because of it. That photoshoot that came back to haunt him recently had been one of his tamer projects from that whole period. Meanwhile his parents figured that if making him choose had worked once then it’d work again. 

They’d tried it on all sorts of things Hizashi didn’t care to remember anymore. They hadn’t gotten after him for money, but they’d tried really hard to control his image so he’d be less flashy. Nineteen year old Hizashi had not been there for it and so he’d started acting out until he realized he absolutely hated who he’d become and what he was doing.

Shouta accepted him back without judgment when Hizashi showed up crying at his front door and when they got engaged it had been _his_ idea to do an entire couple’s photoshoot with coordinated outfits and everything so they could spend a solid month bombarding Hizashi’s parents with postcards just to make sure they knew they weren’t invited to the wedding.

He’d known he made the right choice before that, but Shouta had ways of reminding him every so often.

“We’ve got plenty of room for one more.” Hizashi assured her. “But.. um… what about Yagi?”

“Toshinori-san?” She blinked and her blush intensified. “Well, I admit we have been talking for quite a bit. It would be a while before anything… happened. I can’t make any plans contingent on him. This is the first time we’ve met in person after all. E-even if we end up with the ---with the best possible conclusion...” She gave him a measuring look. “...you know who he is, right?”

Oh, yeah.

“I do. We both teach at UA.” Hizashi hadn’t really been thinking beyond All Might’s vast fortune and ability to hire whatever caretakers and security he needed. He was still an active hero. Hizashi and Shouta could make it work because there were two of them and Hizashi had a regular schedule. Inko couldn’t compensate for Yagi the way Hizashi could step in for Shouta. “He’s stepping back from Hero work.”

“Yes, but not entirely. Izuku needs stability right now even if there’s a possibility that we’ll…” She patted her burning cheeks. “...work out.”

“How did you two meet?” Hizashi wanted to know. “Did Izu introduce you?”

“Sort of!” She seemed glad for the shift in topic. “I’m an amateur photographer and Izu forwarded some pictures I’d sent him to Toshinori-san around the time when they first met. He got in contact with me afterwards to… well, I guess he wanted to make sure I knew he’d been in contact with Izuku and reassure me that he didn’t have bad intentions.” Her gaze dipped. “He also wanted to air his concerns about Hisashi. I had to explain what happened between Izuku’s father and I. He promised he’d pursue other ways to get Izuku to safety. I didn’t know his real identity then, but we became friends and eventually… we both started to have feelings. He finally told me who he really is after the USJ incident.”

Akatanti-sensei dried her hands, got out her phone, and showed him a picture. It was Yagi puffed up with muscles and nervous expression while wearing the caped costume he tended to reserve for interviews he wanted to look good in and holding a whiteboard with the date and a note on it that read, “No really, it’s me.”

It was _precious._

“You could sell that picture for millions.” He said without really thinking it through.

She pulled her phone back against her chest and frowned. _“No,_ it’s mine.”

Hizashi made a mental note to start shopping for a wedding present. It always took him forever to pick something out and if he got started _now_ then he’d probably have something in mind when the wedding invitations went out.

Hizashi grinned. “You should call me Mic.”

“O-oh?” She smiled back. “Then please, call me Inko.”

They kept chatting and after a while Hizashi happened to notice Shouta watching them from the hallway looking like a smug little shit.

He pointed two fingers at his eyes and then at Shouta. _I’m onto you._ He signed. _You planned this._

 _Sure did._ Shouta signed back and vanished back into the living room.

They needed a bigger house, Hizashi decided. They were already going to have to move thanks to Wendigo, but they needed a guest bedroom with Inko in the mix and maybe a bigger basement for Shouta and the boys to throw each other around.

Hizashi had always loved being part of a big family even if his relationship with his parents and siblings had been rocky from the get-go. He’d loved having people in every room just there, living their lives. 

His brothers and sisters had never said anything to him one way or the other about his split with their parents. He never heard from them again after he left home and they didn’t answer if he called. Some of them still creeped on his social media. Once in a great while they’d accidentally like something he posted before hurriedly un-liking it. After twelve years he’d made his peace with it. He knew what kind of pressure their parents could bring to bear, having knuckled under it once himself. He didn’t blame them and was glad to know they hadn’t forgotten him.

Living alone after the rift had creeped him out though. His imagination magnified every little noise and inconsistency into something sinister. That wasn’t the case if there were a bunch of other people around to have potentially moved that chair or made that footstep out in the hall. Hizashi found that reassurance, if nothing else, incredibly relaxing when he’d lived at home.

Picking Shouta had meant giving that up, but it hadn’t been a big sacrifice when he’d spent most of his time with his birth family walking on eggshells and editing every word in his head before he spoke it. 

He _finally_ had the best of both worlds… now he just needed more house to put it all in.

* * *

Eighteen faces stared at Izuku where he stood up in front of the class right next to Hitoshi.

Part of him had been worried that they all knew who he was and had decided to hate him in advance, but he didn’t feel anything from his new classmates except mild curiosity, evermounting excitement from Kirishima, and bone deep weariness from Aizawa. Kacchan had his cranky face on because both the empty seats were right behind him, but it had more to do with something about leaning back in his chair than sitting next to Izuku.

“You two.” Aizawa snapped. They weren’t going to hide the fact that Hitoshi and Izuku were his kids if anyone asked, but Aizawa had instructed them not to spread it around either. “Introduce yourselves then find a seat.”

Hitoshi flicked an unimpressed look over the assembled student heroes. “I’m Shinsou Hitoshi.” He announced and for a second Izuku dared hope he wouldn’t start anything. “I have no intention of making friends. You are all obstacles that I must overcome.”

_Nevermind._

Izuku gulped as the class turned their attention on him. “My name is Midoriya Izuku.” He managed a shaking, but hopeful smile. “I'll be in your care.”

-The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, I won't leave you hanging. The epilogue is up too.


	14. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey, it's these guys again

Yasu was the first to lose patience with the way Asuka was snickering at her tablet. 

Hisashi had never found her sounds to be particularly bothersome so that was a race he’d never lost, but curiosity was a new sensation for him and he still struggled to manage it at times. He wanted to know what was so funny.

They’d been laying low for several weeks to avoid the increased Hero attention drawn by their most recognizable members, but also the Eight Rings who weren’t happy about their ‘generous’ job offer being turned down or that one minion Asuka had killed.

It had been something of a working vacation as they all settled into the new HQ building, which was much more comfortable than their old headquarters had been. Hisashi had his own projects to keep him occupied.

Sabine never did stop appearing to him, but she didn’t stick around very long these days so she couldn’t be cornered into revealing the role she’d played in Izuku’s escape. Hisashi could forgive almost anything if someone made a good enough argument, but he was certain she was the reason Kai Chisaki had Izuku’s description.

Most recently she’d been after him to make a new lightsaber. He didn’t quite see the point. There were three kyber crystals in existence on the planet so far as he knew; the red one Sabine had received as a Sith apprentice, the green one she’d eventually found for herself, and the blue one she’d kept as a memento of her dead Master. 

They were all in the possession of his son where they should be. He had no plans to take any of them back. Besides, he’d already made his own lightsaber to mark the completion of his initial training and had rarely ever used it outside of training. Aside from his son, he’d never met an opponent that merited that level of effort on his part.

_ ‘Did you make  _ your _ lightsaber?’ _ Sabine had asked him.  _ ‘Or did you make  _ a _ lightsaber?’ _

He hadn’t had a good answer for her so he’d chosen to get to work instead.

“What the hell are you watching?” Yasu snapped as Asuka made an extended nasal  _ heeeeeee _ noise, which was what her laughter sounded like when she wasn’t paying attention.

“Oh…!” Asuka flipped the tablet over before he could get a look at the screen and then tucked it under the wedge-shaped cushion she used as a lounge chair. “Nothing!”

“Don’t fucking front with me.” Yasu tried to lift the edge of the cushion to get at the tablet. Anyone else would have lost that hand, but Yasu held a special non-edible place in Asuka’s heart. Also, she was very invested in keeping the new carpet in their private suite nice for as long as possible. “You’re watching the baby monitor. Come on, share!”

“Ugh, fine!” She sighed. “I saw something on the news and finally found some archived footage of it. I was going to make a master cut of it with some music for you guys to watch, but if you’re gonna ruin the surprise then nevermind!”

“Bring it here.” Hisashi set his work aside and moved to the couch. Asuka flowed over the carpet and spilled into his side. He lifted his arm and settled it gently around her shoulders as she pulled herself up using his shirt. “We’ll watch it together.”

The fragile new thing between them was unexplored territory for both parties involved. Neither he nor Asuka really knew what they were doing, but with every tentative step forward he came to understand better why Inko had left him and that she had been right to do so. 

They had never been in love and had really only been in it for an agreeable partner to raise children with. He hadn’t understood then what potential they’d both cut out of their lives by making such a deal.

“Check it out.” Asuka restarted the video. “Izu beat up No Nose.”

_ “Hell yes. _ I am here for this.” Yasu went around behind the couch to watch over their shoulders. “I hate that guy.”

Stain was determined to be unlikable so Hisashi thought that was reasonable, but he was also a very skilled duellist; one of the few opponents where Hisashi would choose to make very careful preparations before facing. Asuka had spoiled the ending a bit so he wasn’t nervous, but he did hope Izuku had been either lucky or careful. Preferably both.

The video started in the middle of the vigilante monologuing at some poor fool while they bled out, but it picked up when a student hero in heavy armor and little mufflers on his legs blundered onto the scene. Stain tried to run him off, but the boy made the unfortunate mistake of triggering the man’s psychosis. 

“That’s Aeolus; one of the Iidas.” Asuka explained. “He’s in Izu’s class. Kinda got a stick up his butt. Big law and order boner. Not the type to run and save himself. Plus Stain got his brother earlier in the year so, you know, it’s personal too.” 

Aeolus did not do well against Stain. That was no surprise. Stain was a difficult opponent for veteran heroes, much less someone who’d been in official training for less than a year.

Izuku appeared shortly afterwards in obvious pursuit of his dimwit classmate. Hisashi found he recognized the area as Hosu, which had been in the news recently due to an abnormal villain attack without many details on offer from the media except that it had happened.

Hisashi took a moment to look over his son’s new costume. He’d picked out a somber green jumpsuit with knee and elbow pads. He had a new face mask, which was an improvement on the mesh thing Hisashi had found in a closet for him to use at the USJ. He looked… good. Hisashi didn’t much care for the flash and spandex most Heroes liked, but Izuku appeared like he’d dressed to get things accomplished.

“Here it is.” Asuka clapped her hands and everyone leaned in closer.

Stain blustered at Izuku a bit; typical melodrama. They dodged each other for a bit and it looked for a moment like Izuku might have to fight him with the lightsaber, but then Stain used the close walls of the alley he’d chosen as a murder scene to jump up overheard for an airborne strike.

The brief disappointment on Izuku’s face echoed in Hisashi’s chest. How boring.

Izuku point and Stain’s murderous descent came to an abrupt and comedic halt. He kicked his legs around until Izuku snapped his fingers and Stain fell asleep. He produced some zip ties from a pocket and secured the vigilante before seeing to the fallen.

“Can you give me retroactive permission to use my quirk?” Hisashi heard Izuku ask the wounded hero as he sealed the man’s wounds, sounding like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. Hisashi stifled a chuckle. “Aeolus and I were just shadowing today.”

“He…” Native wheezed as the pain he’d been in probably vanished. “... hell, yeah, kid. I’ll take the heat for this. You’re gonna have to give a statement though. I can’t take credit for your takedown. It’d never hold up in review.”

Native was infamous for taking credit for takedowns he hadn’t actually played a part in so either he had some shame or Izuku had given him a little nudge to do the correct thing. Stain hadn’t picked him for no reason.

Asuka flopped over into Hisashi’s lap as the people on screen carried Stain out of the alley. “I can’t take it! The news didn’t report any of that! He didn’t get any credit!” She announced. “My boy got shafted! Do Hero stans feel like this  _ all the time?” _

“I wonder.” Hisashi continued to watch the footage. Then a pale beige shape eclipsed the camera and Izuku was gone.

“Wait, what? I didn’t watch this far!” Asuka snatched the tablet, but the AI tracking Izuku though the municipal cameras found another angle before she could do anything.

A winged monster with a familiar exposed brain had his son clenched in one of its talon-like feet. The camera didn’t show Izuku’s face, but it did catch the brilliant green swath of light created by his lightsaber as the boy cut himself free. He landed on the roof of a building below, hit the gravel in a roll and came up with… with two sabers; one in each hand. He had the green blade he’d made himself on his dominant side, but the shorter offhand blade glowed red.

The flying nomu made another attack on him, but hit the rooftop instead and was also put to sleep by Izuku’s Force interference.

Asuka paused the video there on the image of his son standing proud and undefeated over his enemy before she took the tablet back.

Izuku didn’t look like anyone’s apprentice anymore and Hisashi wondered if the holocron still addressed his son as ‘padawan.’ He’d always believed he’d be there to witness that transition.

“Um, boss.” Yasu handed him a tissue and Hisashi realized he was crying. Again.

“Why does this keep happening?” He muttered as he dabbed at the tears leaking out of his disobedient eyes.

“I think it’s hilarious.” Yasu grinned. “All this time I thought Izu got that from Inko and turns out it was  _ you _ the whole time.”

“Um, guys…” Asuka’s nervous voice diverted their attention at once. She turned her screen to show them Shigaraki standing on a rooftop with both arms in casts. His hands were clearly present and in place, although a few of his fingers were bandaged in different colored fabric to circumvent his quirk. None of that stopped him from cackling at the chaos below like a B Grade TV antagonist. 

His pleasure abated when the flying nomu went down, although he wasn’t close enough to see who it had just that it had snatched someone. He started shouting and stomping his feet until suddenly he coughed up black fluid and was snatched away before he could do something stupid.

“Well, that’s not good.” Yasu said what was on all their minds.

“Hisashi, baby.” Asuka peered over the edge of her tablet at him. “Are you  _ absolutely positive  _ you killed Sensei?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's one more cliffhanger between friends? :3

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [You and What Army](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27411307) by [The Feels Whale (miscellea)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miscellea/pseuds/The%20Feels%20Whale)




End file.
